Tempered Glass
by cyko1003
Summary: [DannyLindsay] A psychopathic serial killer haunts the world of Lindsay and Danny. Does anyone notice when you're gone? Who's there for you when you shatter? [Completed 6.18]
1. Prologue

So it's been awhile since I've posted anything, but this is a piece I've been working on since September and finally have it at a point where it's ready for posting. So here it is - I hope you enjoy it.

Special thanks to Boleyn and Elainhe for the beta, and to Audrina for the gamma.

Side thanks to Bluenose, Cazzie, Kennedy, and Mandy for the constant encouragement (and harassment).

* * *

**Tempered Glass**

**Prologue**

Emma Mezzolo walked into her apartment, throwing her keys and purse down on the coffee table. She sunk onto her couch and started flipping aimlessly through the channels. It had been another long day – good thing it was Friday, though. Sometimes being a teacher really weighed down on her, though she loved what she did – her fifth grade class was adorable, but some days, it just got to be a lot. Especially on the days where the kids would decide to be complete peaches and act out. Of course, as soon as one of them got going, they all got going… then it was just chaos. Naturally, today was one of those days.

She signed heavily as she clicked off her television. Nothing good was ever showing on Friday nights, save for old reruns of cop shows and really terrible made-for-TV movies. Looked like it would be another boring Friday night alone. _I really need to get out more, _she thought to herself as she made her way to the kitchen.

A knock on her door interrupted her trip. _Visitors on a Friday? _She stopped and turned towards her front door. _Strike that, visitors in general? _she thought, glancing through the peep hole. She could make out a man wearing a blue ball cap. _Ugh. I hate solicitors. Always asking for money, like I have any. Might as well be friendly anyway. _She plastered her best fake smile on her face, and opened the door.

And everything went black.

* * *

Danny glanced at his clock, the sunlight burning his eyes. _8:04. _Just that little bit of movement caused his head to pound. _Damn you, Flack, _he thought to himself. Flack had had a rough week – caught his girlfriend cheating on him, completely blindsided him. In Flack's words, "it was like running head-on into a brick wall, and then being crushed by a speeding Mack truck." So naturally, Flack looked to Danny to help him drink his sorrows away, and on a Sunday night, no less. His only saving grace was that he didn't need to be into work for a few more hours.

The shrill ring of Danny's cell phone went off. "Fuck!" Danny yelled, clapping both hands to his head. That noise was _not _what he needed to hear! Squinting to read the name on the display, he cringed more. _Mac. _

"Messer," he grumbled into his phone. Damn having to be there for your friends.

"_Hey Danny, sorry to do this to you, but I need you to start a bit early today. There was a body found, messy crime scene. Hawkes and Stella are out on another call. I've already called Lindsay, she's going to meet you there." _

"Yeah, kay," grumbled Danny, forcing himself out of bed. He scribbled the location down, then made his way to the kitchen and downed two Advil.

His head pounded as he made his way to the shower. _The sooner these drugs kick in the better, _he thought, turning on the water. The truth was, a tiny part of him wasn't even a little bit sorry for Flack, and he hated himself for thinking that. Flack had been pining after this girl for ages, and finally, she agreed to go out with him. Flack could not have been more over the moon about it, either. For weeks he was practically walking on air.

And of course, all this happened right around the time Lindsay shot Danny down.

So while part of Danny was happy that Flack had finally gotten what he was after, another part of him hated it. That same part was thrilled when Flack told Danny how he caught her cheating on him. Fuck, Danny hated himself for thinking that way.

Just because he couldn't have the girl he wanted, meant that no one else could? How was that right?

He turned off the water with more force than was necessary. He and Flack had gotten completely shit-faced… They drank away the pain of girls who had taken their hearts, thrown them in a blender, and hit _frappé_. At least the alcohol had provided them both with a temporary escape from that pain.

Danny quickly got dressed, gathered his kit, and strode out to his car, the headache finally subsiding.

And to top it off, he'd be working with Lindsay.

Damn women.

* * *

Lindsay stared aimlessly as the lights of the tunnel whipped by. Her morning commute no longer required any capacity for thinking – she could do it completely on auto-pilot. Such is the result of living in New York for over a year, doing a job where working seven days a week wasn't uncommon. She hated Monday mornings, though. Commuters were always grumpiest on Mondays. Not that they were ever particularly nice to begin with.

As much as Lindsay loved New York and loved her job, part of her was really beginning to miss the comfort she had back home. At home, she had friends, had family – 'loneliness' didn't exist in that world. Yes, she had become friends with her coworkers… but it really just wasn't the same. At times she still felt like the new girl; the others had all been working together for ages. She sighed heavily. Sort of a catch-22 situation, she supposed.

Then there was Danny, the one person who could have helped her escape from loneliness, and what did she do? She flipped out. She got scared and retreated to a dark corner of her own little screwed-up world, shut him down, and shut him out. As lonely as she was, she didn't want to plague him with her own issues, her own twisted reasons for leaving the place where she used to be so happy. She wasn't ready to go there, not yet.

As the subway creaked to a halt at her stop, she forced Danny out of her mind. Flack was meeting her at the lab to give her a lift to their crime scene.

No sooner had she reached the front doors of the lab when a honk behind her caught her attention. In the car was Flack, waving her over.

And he did not look good.

Lindsay climbed into the car, biding a casual 'hey' to Flack.

"Danny's on his way to the scene," he said, leaning back in his seat as he fought through the morning traffic. "Based on the 911 call that came in, it's a pretty gruesome situation."

"Lovely," replied Lindsay sarcastically. Great start to a Monday morning. "You look like shit, by the way," she teased.

Flack didn't say anything. Instead, he reached over and turned up the volume on the radio.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Damn men.


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far - you guys make my day:)Here's the next chapter - thanks again to my beta/gamma team of Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. You guys rock.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Danny was already at the crime scene when Lindsay and Flack arrived. Lindsay quickly noted that Danny looked equally as worn out as Flack did – obviously it had been a rough night for the both of them. Given Flack's reaction to her teasing in the car, though, she opted to let a comment directed at Danny slide.

"So what have we got?" she asked, putting down her kit and scanning the room. "This is the scene?" she said in disbelief. The place looked like it hadn't been touched. There wasn't a chair overturned, not a picture frame out of line. "Flack, you told me the scene was gruesome. _This _does not qualify as gruesome."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed. If I didn't know better, I'd say that no one even lived here," commented Flack.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," said Danny, standing up. "The victim's in the bedroom. Emma Mezzolo, thirty-one. She's a teacher at an elementary school a few blocks from here. A coworker found her after the super let her in. I don't know the whole story, though."

"Okay," said Flack, pulling out his notebook. "I'll start interviewing the neighbours, and I'll let you two do your thing in here." With that, he turned and headed towards the swarm of people who had gathered outside the victim's apartment.

"Body's on the bed," said Danny, motioning for her to follow. "It _is _pretty gruesome. Definitely been there awhile."

She followed Danny into the bedroom and gasped as she looked around. The scene before Lindsay horrified her. 'Gruesome' didn't even begin to describe this. Emma lay on her bed, face up and eyes wide open, a single gunshot wound in her forehead. The bedding around her head was soaked with blood, indication of a through-and-through. She was wearing only a white t-shirt that was no longer white. Blood stained the shirt in a line from the collar down to about where her navel would be.

And given the stench coming from the woman, she had definitely been there for awhile.

"Good god," whispered Lindsay, forcing her eyes away from the victim and scanning the rest of the room. Similar to the rest of the apartment, the room looked untouched. "What I don't understand," she said, "is how this woman was murdered so brutally, and yet the rest of the apartment is immaculate."

"Tell me about it," Danny said, facing her. "I've processed most of this room already…" his voice trailed.

"Well at least that saves me from working in this stink. And?" Lindsay prodded.

"Nothing," Danny said, frustrated. "No prints, no trace, no anything. It's like she did this to herself, cleaned up, then lay down in the bed." He rubbed his hands over his face. "Oh, and to add to it, the bullet was a through-and-through."

"Yeah, I gathered that by the amount of blood," said Lindsay, opening her kit and snapping on a pair of gloves. She walked to the body and lifted up the white shirt. Underneath was a superficial slice, going from about the victim's collarbone down to just past her navel. Lindsay wasn't sure at first glance if it was pre- or post-mortem. For Emma's sake, she hoped it was the latter.

"But the kicker? Bullet's not there."

"What?"

"Bullet isn't there. The guy must have retrieved it. The hole is in the mattress, but there's no bullet in the hole."

"Wonderful. Can't get a hit on the gun with no bullet," said Lindsay. "Well, hopefully he was a bit sloppier in the common room." _Not that it looks like we'll be that lucky, _she added mentally, pulling out her print dust.

* * *

The room was nearly processed when Flack came back in, looking completely frustrated.

"I have nothing useful from the neighbours," he said, flipping back through his notes. "She kept to herself a lot, no boyfriend to speak of, lived a very quiet life."

Lindsay nodded as she listened – she had figured that much from the victim's apartment. The pictures were not of friends or boyfriends, but of children, most of whom were in classrooms. Lindsay assumed that the pictures were all of her students.

"I talked to a coworker who's here, though," Flack continued. "Mezzolo never no-showed for work without calling, so her absence this morning was extremely out of character. Angie Turcotte, the coworker, called Mezzolo's place earlier, but there was no answer. When the same thing happened at lunch, Turcotte came over after the school day ended. She got the super to let her in, and this is what she found. According to her, she didn't touch or move anything, just came in, saw the body, ran out, and called 911."

"Makes sense," said Danny, looking around. "She didn't move anything, as there are no prints anywhere, not even the vic's. The guy must have wiped the whole place down before he left."

"This isn't good," breathed Lindsay. "We've got no prints, no trace, no anything to go on. How are we supposed to process _nothing_?"

"Yeah, I see that," said Danny, looking around again. "I'm going to do another sweep over the bedroom, why don't you take a look in the kitchen?" He turned and walked into the bedroom without giving her a chance to reply.

Lindsay looked at Flack, who just shrugged. "Are you guys done with the body? The crew is here to take it to Hammerback."

"Yeah," said Danny and Lindsay at the same time. Flack motioned for his team to come in and collect the body, while Danny disappeared back into the bedroom. _He's acting very strange today, _Lindsay noted as she made her way into the kitchen. Part of her wanted to question him about it, but the more rational part of her told her to just let it go. She sighed again as she opened up her kit.

Of course, the kitchen was just as immaculate as the rest of the house. Still, she dusted and processed anyway, hoping to find something, anything, that could at least give them a lead. But after two full sweeps, she came up empty-handed.

She threw her equipment back into her kit and slammed it shut, frustrated. She hated cases like this.

Danny came out of the bedroom just as Lindsay left the kitchen. The look on his face, though, didn't require any questions. He wasn't able to find anything, either.

"Come on," said Danny, avoiding eye contact with her. "Hopefully Hammerback will have something useful for us."

* * *

"She's been dead three days," said Hammerback, pulling back the sheet that covered the body.

"Three?" said Lindsay. "That means that she was killed shortly after coming home from work on Friday."

Hammerback nodded in agreement. "Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head, as you probably guessed. Bullet went clear through the skull, exiting out the back. Fairly clean wound tract. I'll have to open her up to see if there's any fragments, but at first glance, it doesn't look promising."

"Naturally," said Danny sarcastically. "Add that to the oodles of evidence we've already got."

Lindsay rolled her eyes. Danny could be a shit when he was frustrated. "What about the wound on her torso?"

"Ah yes," said Hammerback. "Definitely inflicted before she died. Not deep enough to kill her, but definitely enough to make her weak. As you can tell, the wound is only about a quarter-inch deep, but because of the sheer size she lost a significant amount of blood."

Lindsay looked away. This woman was tortured in her own apartment, killed, and then left there for three days. For three days, no one knew she was dead. The thought irked Lindsay.

"Hello? Lindsay?" came Danny's voice, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry, what?"

"I said we should go look into her background, see if there's anything usable there, since everything else seems to be a dead end."

"I'll let you know if I come up with anything," said Hammerback as Lindsay followed Danny out of the morgue. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder at Emma lying on the table as Hammerback prepared to open her up. She turned and ran to catch up with Danny.

The image of a woman lying dead and unknown in her apartment for three days was not going to easily be erased from her mind.


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed thus far - your nice comments keep me going. :) Thanks!  
In honour of finale day, here's the next chapter.  
Props to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina for beta/gamma'ing this beast. :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Please, please, _please _tell me you have something useful," said Flack as he walked into Lindsay and Danny's office.

"No can do," answered Danny, sifting through the papers and pictures for what seemed like the hundredth time. "We didn't find any trace, any prints, anything at the scene."

Flack ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Yeah, the neighbours and the coworkers were all useless. From what they've said, Mezzolo led a quiet life. She loved her job, was always nice to everyone in the building, kept to herself. Never crossed anyone the wrong way, not that we know of at least."

Danny stood up abruptly, startling both Lindsay and Flack. "You're both technically off-shift, right?" he questioned. Both Lindsay and Flack nodded. "Come on then, I need a change of scenery. I can't think in here anymore."

"What?! Are you serious?!" asked Flack, who blocked Danny's way as he attempted to leave the office.

"Yes, I am," replied Danny. He was hoping that'd be enough to satisfy Flack, but the look on Flack's face told him otherwise.

Danny breathed a deep sigh. "Look, I just need to get out and clear my head. We keep hitting dead end after dead end, and I need a break. So can we please just go?"

Danny turned and looked expectantly at Lindsay. _Shit, she's going to think that this is me asking her out again. It's not! _Lindsay broke his gaze and sifted through the papers and pictures that lay strewn over their desks. "I don't know, I think I'd be best to just stay here and-"

"Come on, Linds," Danny interrupted. "The three of us brainstorming this thing together will be more productive anyway. Besides, we're off for the night, so we can go out and talk about it, and come back with fresh minds in the morning."

Lindsay hesitated before answering, but Danny persisted. "Please?"

"Fine," she said, tucking all the papers back into their folders. "But just for a bit - I wouldn't mind at least getting a decent night's sleep."

Flack turned to allow room for Lindsay to pass, then followed behind her as she headed for the elevator. For just a moment, something in Danny froze as he wanted her retreat down the hall. Why was he doing this, allowing himself to spend more time with her outside of work? _It's only going to end badly, _he told himself. _Look what happened to Flack - head over heels for that girl, and she goes and rips his heart out. _

The difference between he and Flack, though, was that he'd be willing to go through the pain if it meant even a moment of bliss with her.

Shit.

* * *

They ended up at Mulligan's, a popular bar amongst the NYPD. Danny chose an empty booth in the back; Flack and Lindsay slid into the seat across from him. They ordered a pitcher for the table.

Flack opened the conversation. "So what do we know so far," he asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"You mean besides nothing?" asked Danny, sarcastically. "Okay, okay, sorry," he said after earning glares from both Flack and Lindsay. "Logically, the killer would have had to have known she was a teacher, or at least worked a Monday-to-Friday job."

"Not necessarily," said Lindsay, reaching for a glass as the waitress put down their pitcher. "The fact that she wasn't found for three days could have been coincidence."

"I suppose," replied Danny, pouring the beer into Lindsay's glass first, then Flacks, then his own. "He would have had to know, though, that she lived alone."

"Or at least that her partner wouldn't be home for awhile, I mean, he took the time to spotlessly clean her apartment. He had to have known he was going to have the time to take that much care in doing so," added Flack. Danny and Lindsay nodded in agreement. "This guy's a bit of a bastard, no?"

They all took sips of their drinks. _Seriously, this case makes no sense, _thought Danny. _We can't even figure out anything conclusive in terms of what the guy knew about the vic - there's actually nothing to go on here. Except -_

"Hang on, the apartment was untouched," Danny said.

"Yeah, what's your point?" asked Lindsay. "That's why this whole thing is a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but there were also no signs of struggle. Unless the guy replaced the door, which I'm sure someone would have noticed, he didn't have to force his way into Mezzolo's apartment."

"But Danny," said Flack slowly, "that doesn't necessarily mean that Mezzolo knew him or let him in willingly - I'm sure if someone held a gun to your head and told you to let them in or they'd shoot you, you'd be letting them in pretty quick."

"Fucker," Danny grumbled into his beer.

They sat there in silence for awhile. Danny noticed Flack was hardly touching his beer, although he couldn't really blame him. Danny knew he'd be useless if he had more than a glass or two - probably better that way anyway. He glanced up at Lindsay, who was absently biting her nails. Flack was staring off into space.

"Why torture her?" Lindsay asked suddenly. "What was the point of that? What does the guy get out of it? That's the part that's bugging me."

"Hard to say for sure," responded Flack, shifting in his seat. "This guy is definitely sadistic."

Lindsay laughed nervously. "You think? I don't know, this case is twisting my mind." She paused before speaking again. "I suppose digging into her background is going to be the next step here - phone records, previous relationships. She was a teacher - I suppose it's possible that she pissed off a parent."

Flack laughed.

"What?" asked Lindsay, confused.

"Pissing off a parent," he repeated, rotating his glass on the table. "When I was in third grade, I was the biggest shit disturber."

"You mean that's changed?" asked Danny, looking at Flack over the rim of his glasses.

"Jackass," Flack grumbled. "I was _that kid_ through most of elementary school, actually. Junior High as well. I was always pulling pranks on my teachers and getting the other kids in trouble. I didn't normally get caught, either - I was good at pranking. In third grade, I hated my teacher. She was mean - your typical 'Wicked Witch of the West' type of person. My school had just gotten brand new whiteboards. During recess of the first day we had them, I snuck back into the classroom and scraped the labels off the whiteboard markers. Two days later, I swapped the black one with a permanent marker. Of course, it didn't erase. The school had to replace the whiteboards in our classroom, three days after installing them."

Lindsay chuckled. "Yeah, definitely a shit disturber. I imagine the school wasn't too happy about that."

"God no," laughed Flack. "The principal came in and gave us quite the talking to. Tried to get the culprit to fess up. Of course, I knew better, I kept my mouth shut. They never ended up finding out it was me."

Danny looked up at Lindsay. _God she's beautiful when she smiles. _It was the first time he'd seen her smile in… well, a long time. He missed it. A lot. He decided to keep this mood going - it had been too long since he'd seen this side of Lindsay.

"My pranks never cost anyone money, it was always just annoying things - hiding the teacher's mark book, breaking the chalk so she would be stuck with the itty bitty pieces…"

"You guys were shits!" laughed Lindsay. "I was always nice to my teachers, got along with them well. I never had issues, and if I did I always kept it to myself. In fact, I still keep in touch with one of my high school teachers, just casual emails every so often."

"Suck up," teased Danny.

Lindsay glared playfully, then kicked him under the table.

"Ow!! What was that for?!" laughed Danny.

"For making fun of me!"

"Now now, children," interjected Flack. The three of them just looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh man, we really are pathetic in our own special ways, aren't we," said Lindsay as she struggled to catch her breath.

The three continued to share stories and laugh together, the case now forgotten. Danny found himself completely enjoying the light side of Lindsay that he hadn't seen in ages. He missed it. A lot.

He missed her.

The pitcher had been empty awhile, when Lindsay finally decided that they should be heading home. Danny offered to pick up the tab for the pitcher, despite Flack and Lindsay's arguments.

"Thanks for the drinks, Danny," said Lindsay, once outside the bar. "I'll see you both in the morning."

"Do you want a lift home?" Danny blurted before he could stop himself.

Lindsay smiled. "No, thanks, I'll be okay, the subway's not far from here."

_Idiot, _Danny berated himself. Deciding not to push the issue, he instead bid her a good night and a safe trip home.

"See you bright and early," he waved as Lindsay turned and walked away from them.

Danny didn't say anything to Flack as he walked back towards the lab.

"Everything okay, Danny? You sure changed quick," asked Flack, coming up beside him.

"Yeah, fine," said Danny. "How are you holding up?" he asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Meh, been okay, it was kind of nice to be completely distracted today, and a light social outing was just what I needed, especially after last night's pissfest."

"You're telling me," said Danny, swiping his card to open the door to the parking garage. "I could have shot Mac when he called this morning."

"Hey, I got the call a full hour before you!" quipped Flack, giving Danny a light punch.

"Doesn't change the fact that it sucked," retorted Danny. "Anyway, I'll see you in the morning. Have a good night."

"You too, try not to let the case keep you up all night." Flack turned and walked towards his car.

Danny sighed and climbed into his own. _It's not the case that'll be keeping me up, _he thought miserably as he turned the key in the ignition. _Damn._


	4. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks as always to my beta/gamma team of Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. :)  
Super-big thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far - thank you for taking the time to do so!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The days rolled past uneventfully. Lindsay stared at her computer screen as she ran a print for Stella. Emma Mezzolo's case had pretty much hit a dead end – the lack of evidence and usable leads forced them to put the case on the back burner. It bothered her – not only had Emma been dead for three days, but now they wouldn't be able to find out who had done that to her.

The last few days had been absolutely infuriating. Lindsay hated – _hated _– it when they had to let cases go. She felt somewhat responsible for finding out what had happened to the victims, to help them rest in peace and bring closure to their families.

The only solace she seemed to get out of the whole thing was that things were finally starting to get back to normal with Danny. She was glad she decided to go to Mulligan's after the first day of Emma's case – it helped clear her mind, helped her feel more comfortable around Danny. It really hadn't been the same since she turned him down, if you could call it that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Danny walking into their office. "Linds, we've got a call. Another apartment building, seems we're on a roll with them this week," he joked. "Come on, I'll drive. Flack's already there."

"Sure," replied Lindsay, quickly double-checking that her kit was stocked. "Let's go."

Lindsay and Danny walked up the stairs to the floor where Flack was waiting for them. As soon as Lindsay saw the look on his face, she knew something wasn't right.

"You guys aren't going to believe this," Flack said, stepping out of the way so they could enter the victim's apartment.

Lindsay hadn't walked more than a step through the door when she stopped dead in her tracks, Danny standing completely still behind her.

"Oh my God," she whispered. In front of her was another immaculate apartment – nothing out of place, the furniture shining clean.

"There's no way," said Danny slowly, stepping in front of Lindsay and looking around. "It's not possible."

"And that's not all," said Flack, motioning towards the bedroom. "Michelle Gregor, twenty-three. She's a student at NYU. And guys," he added, "it ain't pretty."

Lindsay drew a breath as she followed Danny into the bedroom. She expected to find Michelle in a similar state as Emma, and at first glance, everything did seem to be the same. Michelle lay on her bed, eyes open, face up, with a single gunshot wound in her head, blood soaking the comforter around her. And then there was the similar stench of rotting flesh. But as Lindsay moved closer to the body, one difference blared out at her. Michelle was also wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, but instead of a vertical slit from her collarbone to her navel, instead was –

"_A two?!_" Lindsay exclaimed, turning to face Danny. "He's carving _numbers _into them?!"

"Seems like it," replied Danny, swallowing hard. "I guess the simple slit we found on Mezzolo was more than just a slit."

Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut – whoever they were dealing with was seriously twisted. Feeling her stomach lurch, she walked out of the bedroom in an attempt to get a hold of herself. Two of them. There were _two _of them. _Two _that had been left alone for days before being found, and he was _numbering _them! What kind of sick—

"Monroe," came Flack's voice from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Definitely the same MO," she said, trying to recover. "What do you know?" She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on Flack.

"Gregor was a senior at NYU. Her best friend, Kathy Culkins, found her. Gregor had been planning a surprise trip to visit her boyfriend…" Flack flipped through his notebook searching for the name, "Michael Norwood, in Toronto. She had booked a flight Monday night, but never made it there. Michael didn't know she was coming, and thus didn't expect her. Her friends obviously didn't think anything of it when they didn't see her for days, since they thought she was in Toronto." Flack sighed. "But after three days of not being able to get a hold of Gregor, Norwood called Culkins, asking where his girlfriend was. Culkins said she thought she was with Norwood… Culkins has a spare key, you know, 'just in case'. She came by this morning looking for Gregor… and found this."

"God," mumbled Lindsay. "Culkins must have been pretty shook up."

"Yeah, took her awhile to get through the story, she was sobbing so hard. She's with a few other friends right now, they're all pretty upset."

"Understandably so." Lindsay could see Danny in the bedroom with a few other men who were bagging the body. "Bullet?" she asked.

"None, same as before, retrieved out of the mattress."

"Damn. Well, I'm going to process in here; hopefully it's not as much of a strikeout as last time." Lindsay sighed heavily as she pulled out what she needed. As was the case with Emma, pictures around the apartment caught her attention as she dusted for prints, except Michelle was in the majority of these pictures: a boy she assumed to be Michael, Michelle with a few other girls at an amusement park, one of Michelle and Kathy laughing on a beach front. Lindsay tore her eyes away from the pictures and focused herself on dusting the surfaces, hoping to find something, anything.

But her mind wouldn't be distracted. Both Michelle and Emma lived alone, and both had been left dead for days. The thing with Emma, though, was that she was pretty independent – didn't have many friends, really only had her job and that was it. Michelle, though, had a boyfriend and had plenty of friends, and still, she lay dead for four days before she was found – longer than Emma. _Maybe if she had a roommate…_ Lindsay began to think, but abruptly stopped herself. _No, Lindsay, no, no what-ifs, you'll just drive yourself crazy. Focus on the evidence; focus on what's in front of you. If there _is _anything in front of you, that is. _

Danny's hand on her back startled her. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I've done a sweep of the bedroom, there's nothing there." He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his arms in front of him. "It's the same situation as Mezzolo – apparently we're dealing with a ghost. How can you possibly catch a ghost?"

"I don't know," sighed Lindsay, turning back to the table she was dusting. "I don't know." She could feel Danny's eyes on her, but was afraid to look up at him. "Why don't you go through the rest of the house – the bathroom, the kitchen," she suggested, not taking her eyes off the table.

Danny drew a breath to say something, then exhaled, changing his mind. "Yeah, sure, I'll do the bathroom." He picked up his kit, giving Lindsay a last glance over his shoulder before disappearing through the bathroom door.

When she thought it was safe, Lindsay peeked behind her to make sure Danny was gone. She stood up and stretched, trying to control her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was get upset at a crime scene, but something about this case… something about it was just getting under her skin - the gruesomeness of it, how these women must have felt. Did they know that they wouldn't be found for days? That no one was even out looking for them?

Lindsay grabbed her kit with considerably more force than was necessary and began tape lifting Michelle's doormat. She had no idea if she would find anything, but at this point, she wasn't willing to leave even a single stoned unturned.

* * *

Danny finished processing the bathroom at about the same time Lindsay finished with the common room. They together processed the kitchen, finding nothing outright useful. They sat in awkward silence on the way back to the lab. Images of both victims ran through Lindsay's head: the bloody numbers carved into their chests, their eyes wide open and lifeless, looks of sheer terror frozen on their faces. Danny noticed Lindsay shift uncomfortably in her seat. 

"You alright?"

"We had better catch this guy, Danny," she said through a clenched jaw. "We had better…"

"We will, Lindsay," Danny said, trying to sound reassuring. "We'll go back and process everything we collected – we have two victims to compare now, so hopefully we can find some similarities and that will give us a lead."

Lindsay nodded her head. She just hoped he was right.

* * *

"You're not going to like what I have to tell you," said Hammerback solemnly as Lindsay and Danny entered the morgue. 

"Let me guess," said Danny, leaning against Hammerback's table. "Through-and-through, no trace, slice in her chest inflicted pre-mortem. Exactly the same as the other vic."

"Afraid so," said Hammerback. "The only thing of interest that I found was that she fought back more than Miss Mezzolo did."

"Please tell me you got some trace, Doc," said Danny, hopeful.

"I've send what I could to Trace, but her nails were clipped and her fingertips scrubbed. So chances aren't that high, but I sent what I could get anyway."

"This guy is smart," said Danny, looking sideways at Lindsay. She nodded slowly, then looked up at Hammerback.

"Thanks Doc, let us know if you find anything else." Hammerback gave her a quick nod, and went back to combing through Michelle's hair. Lindsay stood frozen, unable to pry her eyes away.

"Lindsay, we should compare their backgrounds, see if we can find _any _similarities." Danny looked at her expectantly, but Lindsay didn't move. "Lindsay?"

"What? Yeah, backgrounds, right." She strode off purposefully, not waiting for Danny to follow.

"What's with her?" asked Hammerback as Lindsay pushed forcefully through the doors. Danny just glared. "Geez, sorry," mumbled Hammerback, turning his attention back to the victim, as Danny took off after Lindsay.

This case was going from bad to worse.

And Lindsay was feeling every little effect of it.


	5. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing... the story was a ton of fun to write, so I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. :)  
And as always, thanks to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. :)

* * *

**  
**

**Chapter 4**

Lindsay sat hunched over at her desk, trying desperately to find some connection between Emma Mezzolo and Michelle Gregor. So far, though, she had come up with nothing. Danny sat across from her, analyzing the girls' call logs, number for number. He, too, was coming up blank.

"Nothing, nothing!" said Danny, collapsing back in his chair and rubbing his face with his hands. "The only _remote _similarity in these call logs is that they both ordered takeout a few days before, from two different places. Oh, and they both used 411 directory assistance. Other than that, nothing."

"I can't find anything in their profiles, either," said Lindsay, rifling through the papers for the thousandth time. "I've even tried looking a bit outside the box - you know, maybe they each have a neighbour who happen to be friends, but I can't find-"

She stopped suddenly, as a name on the page caught her eye.

"Lindsay?" Danny asked, obviously confused by her abrupt stop.

"Hang on, I might have something…" She rustled through the papers, finally finding the one she was looking for. "Aha! Look at this: the cleaning company that had contracts to clean both the school where Emma worked, and the building that Michelle lived in. _Prybil Cleaners._"

Danny immediately started typing on his computer, searching for a contact number. "Got it. Owned by Philip Prybil - it's a small contract company, fifteen employees who work in teams on building rotations," he read from his screen. "What do you say we give Mister Prybil a call?"

Lindsay smiled. _Finally, a lead._

* * *

Philip Prybil was a short, slightly overweight man with grey hair and a poorly-shaven beard. He looked completely petrified as Danny and Lindsay walked into the interrogation room.

"Mr. Prybil," began Danny, "how long have you been contracted by Procaro Elementary School?"

"A-about four years," stammered Philip. He slowly handed Danny a copy of the contract.

"And New York Real Estate Trust?"

"They're recent, only a f-few months ago." He handed Danny another contract. "I don't know why they switched from their previous cleaners, though," he added. He twirled his fingers in his lap, constantly fidgeting. Lindsay could feel his leg shaking beneath the table.

"Do you clean the buildings yourself, Mr. Prybil?" asked Lindsay. She looked directly at him, studying his movements. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she found it unlikely that someone so unsteady could possibly have made such clean cuts in the victims.

"Only when the regularly-scheduled cleaners call in sick or are on vacation. I l-like to keep my employees happy, not overwork them, and I try to mix up their buildings so the job doesn't get boring. Custodial work isn't exactly g-glamorous. I always give them Sundays off, too."

"How do you 'mix it up'?" asked Lindsay.

"I have fif-fifteen workers, three teams of five. Each month they're assigned to various clients - Procaro is the only one that r-requires daily cleaning; my other four clients are every other day, and t-that includes my two NYRET buildings. S-so, the way it works, one team cleans one building Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the other building Tuesday, Thu-"

"Yes, we get the system," cut in Danny.

"S-Sorry," replied Philip, looking at the floor, sweat forming on his forehead. "Anyway, they do that system, and then I rotate the three teams so they get to see different buildings. I-I don't know why I'm here… my workers are very d-dedicated. I have a good reputation…"

"Let me put it to you straight," said Danny, leaning forward. "Two women were murdered. One worked at Procaro, and the other lived in an NYRET building, both of which your company cleans, and so far, that's the only similarity between the two. From where we're sitting, that makes you a very interesting person."

"I h-haven't personally cleaned any of my clients' buildings in weeks, though!" Philip stammered.

"Danny, can I have a word outside?" asked Lindsay, grabbing the cleaning schedule.

"You stay here," said Danny, pointing at Philip. Philip just nodded, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

"What's up, Linds?" asked Danny once they were out of the room.

"I seriously don't think this guy could have done it," she said. "Look at him - he's shaking like mad and we haven't even accused him of anything yet. The cuts on Emma and Michelle would have taken a _lot _of self-control. And look at his cleaning schedule - the murders happened in the middle of the month, which means that there were no common teams at Emma and Michelle's buildings."

"Yeah, that's true," said Danny, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there would have been overlap from the month before. I suppose we'll have to just check out alibis for all fifteen workers, and of course this guy, although I'm with you that he likely didn't do it."

"So back to square one, then," said Lindsay, exasperated, as she reached for the door handle.

"Well, square two, really. At least this is a start." Danny gave her a reassuring smile.

"We'll see how it pans out," Lindsay smiled back.

* * *

It took Danny, Lindsay, and Flack the rest of the afternoon to contact each of the workers and then verify their alibis. Including Philip's, twelve of the sixteen alibis had checked out, and none of the remainder looked promising to provide a possible suspect.

"Okay, great, thanks," said Lindsay, then slammed her phone back onto the receiver. "Cross off number twelve, alibi just confirmed." She grunted loudly in frustration.

"Look, you've been at this all day," said Flack. "Why don't you take off for the night, I'll finish up the rest of the guys and let you know tonight how it goes."

Lindsay looked up at him. It did seem like an attractive idea. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically; the idea of a lighter evening would do her well.

"Thanks, Flack, that'll be good, come back at it early tomorrow morning." She smiled at him, then turned to Danny. "You going to take him up on his offer?"

Danny stared at her as if he hadn't even been listening. "Yeah, yeah," he stuttered, standing up and picking up his coat. "Thanks, Flack, I owe you one."

"No problem," answered Flack as his phone rang. He turned his back on the two to take the call.

Danny led Lindsay down the hall to the elevator. "You doing alright?" he asked as the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah, just tired."

"I hear that," he said. "Would I be out of line if I asked to walk you home?"

Lindsay looked at him, surprised. "Why?" she asked.

"Honestly? I could use some friendly company," he said simply.

Lindsay smiled. "You know what? I could too. Something about this case makes me want to be alone as little as possible. Though it's quite the hike to my apartment from here."

"I'm up for it if you are," Danny smiled, opening the door for her. She smiled at him and walked outside.

The evening air was crisp and chilly; Lindsay pulled her coat tight around her. The sky was mostly clear, save a few stray clouds. The first stars were starting to show themselves, the few that you could see amidst the city lights, anyway.

Lindsay looked around as she and Danny walked silently. But it wasn't an awkward silence - it was a silence that only good friends shared, like they were able to speak without saying any words. She wasn't lying when she said she was glad for the company - part of her could see herself in both Emma and Michelle. Lindsay lived alone, and outside of her coworkers, didn't have many friends in the city. Whether or not she had meant for it to happen, work had pretty much consumed her life; social outings were few and far between. Her days off, however numbered they were, were spent relaxing, escaping from the city she worked in every day. Those days were for herself - catch up on chores and errands, lie in the bath, watch a movie, sleep in the afternoon.

But all that she did on her own. What if one day after shift, someone got to her? And if she had a day off the next day, would anyone notice she was missing? She shivered at the thought.

"You have that look," said Danny, pulling Lindsay from her thoughts.

"What look?"

"You get this look sometimes, when you're really deep in thought. Except this time, it's different… it's, I don't know, sad, I suppose. Seriously, is everything alright?"

For a moment, Lindsay stopped breathing. Had he really just said that? God, he could read her like a book! She hadn't said a word, and yet he had pegged her emotions bang-on. And truth be told, that scared her. That scared the shit out of her. Coworkers weren't supposed to be able to do that…

"It's all good," she lied. "Let's not talk about sad things though, work gives us enough of that." She smiled, not sure if she was trying to convince herself or him that that was the better idea.

"No kidding," he said, looking away from her.

The made small talk the rest of the way. Lindsay couldn't help but grin a bit every time their shoulders bumped together, or when he looked over at her with his big boyish grin. _Goddamn personal issues, _she mentally berated herself.

Before she knew it, they had reached her apartment. "You going to be okay?" he asked as she fumbled for her keys.

"Yeah," she answered. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Do you want to come up?"

The look on Danny's face was that of sheer shock. "No, no, not like that," she said quickly, realizing how he was interpreting the question. "Just to order some food, watch something on TV, whatever. Like you said, the company is nice."

"Alright," replied Danny slowly.

She smiled and led the way up to her apartment.

_Lindsay, you dumbass, _she said to herself as she climbed the stairs. _Please, just… don't do anything stupid. _


	6. Chapter 5

As always, super HUGE thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far! Reviews made me muey happy.  
And of course, thanky thanky to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. Wubbles!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Lindsay hung up Danny's coat while he settled into her couch.

"Nice place you got here," he said, taking in his surroundings.

"Hardly," she laughed, handing him a beer. "I've been here a year and I feel like I still haven't moved in completely." She sunk down on the couch next to him and twisted the cap off her own bottle. "Anything particular you want to watch?" she asked, flipping through the channels.

"Meh, whatever," he answered, but smiled when she stopped on the Yankees game. "Football _and _baseball? Seriously, something you want to share with the class there, Linds?"

Lindsay laughed and threw a pillow at him. "So what, because I'm a girl I can't know about sports?"

"I never said that," retorted Danny. Lindsay glared. "Okay fine, maybe I did. It's just… unconventional. _Not _that that's a bad thing," he added quickly, before she could respond.

They allowed themselves to get completely caught up in the game, yelling profanities at the umpire every time he made an unfavourable call.

"Thanks for doing this, Danny," said Lindsay as she set a fresh beer down in front of him and reclaimed her seat on the couch.

"For doing what?" he asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

"For just keeping me company."

"You mean for being your friend?"

Lindsay chuckled. "Sure, that." She paused and took a sip of her bottle, debating if she should say what was on her mind. But the slight buzz in her head helped make that decision for her. "You know, I was worried that after that talk awhile ago that things were going to be awkward between us."

Danny said nothing; he had instead become very interested in the label on his beer bottle.

"I'm serious," she said, looking back at the television. "I was worried that I had ruined our friendship when I told you… those things."

"You don't have to worry about ruining anything, Lindsay," Danny said, peeling the corners of the label. "I'm not going anywhere – sure, it may have been nice to go down that road, but honestly, I'm happy to just be your friend. You're an amazing person, and a wicked CSI… even though you're secretly male." He dodged the pillow Lindsay threw his way again. "Though if you keep that up, I might reconsider," he quipped.

Lindsay smiled widely, happy to be in his company, to have a small piece of the friendship they used to have. She never realized how much she missed him, until he was gone.

* * *

Danny watched her as she bounced and laughed. It dawned on him how long this Lindsay had actually been absent, and how glad he was that she was back. He kept his eyes glued on her as she tossed the pillow his way. He saw her expression change, just a bit, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Mind if I lie down?" she asked, and before he could answer, Lindsay's head was resting against his ribs. She wasn't quite lying on top of him, more against him, as if he were her own life-sized pillow.

Danny paused for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. He did what felt natural – he let an arm drape over her, and settled against the couch comfortably. Now not an ounce of his attention was focused on the television – he could feel Lindsay's breathing against his ribs, the sweet smell of her shampoo ever-so-slightly wafting up, invading his head.

_Yeah. Shit_.

* * *

Lindsay stirred and looked around, not entirely sure of where she was. As her vision came into focus, she recognized her own living room… and the familiar scent beneath her. She sat up suddenly, her jerky movement waking Danny.

"Mrmgsh," he mumbled, straightening his glasses on his nose as he stretched an arm out.

Lindsay rubbed her eyes. "I think we fell asleep."

"Srghmshhhh," groaned Danny as he settled back into the corner of the couch, his eyes remaining closed.

Lindsay laughed to herself as she watched him drift back to sleep. _Lazyass. _Still, she wanted him to be comfortable. She leaned towards him and lightly shook his shoulder. The firmness of it under her fingers startled her; she grinned wider, resisting the temptation to run her hand down his arm and feel the rest of his crevices. "Danny," she said softly, giving him another light shake.

"Sleep, woman," he grumbled, swatting at her, his eyes still closed.

"Danny, you don't have to leave! The couch is a pull-out bed; it'll be more comfortable for you." She tugged on his arm again.

"Lind-sayyy," he whined, trying to squirm away from her, but she could see a grin forming on his face. She wasn't sure why she was being so persistent – she _could _just leave him sleeping on the couch, but she knew he'd be far more comfortable, and would sleep far better, if he'd just let her turn it into a bed.

"Oh, you big baby," she laughed. "Look, the faster you get up and stop being a pain in my ass, the faster you can go back to sleep."

Danny slowly rolled over and looked at her through one eye. He stuck out his tongue.

"Mature, Messer."

Danny forced himself off the couch and helped Lindsay pull the mattress out of the couch. She could feel his eyes on her as she quickly retrieved bedding and a more comfortable pillow from the linen closet.

"Here we go," said Lindsay as she unfolded one of the sheets. She stifled a grin as she watched Danny stand awkwardly. _Best not to let your mind wander there_, Lindsay said to herself.

"Thanks," he said softly.

They stood for a moment, staring at each other on either side of the bed. The air between them was palpable.

"Well, um," began Lindsay awkwardly, "I'm going to get to bed…"

"Yeah, yeah," said Danny, pulling back the covers and settling into the mattress. "Thanks for setting this up."

"Anytime, Messer," smiled Lindsay, and with that, she turned and retreated into her bedroom.

She softly clicked her door shut behind her, and leaned against it. _God, Lindsay, this is really, really not good. You're getting into dangerous territory here…_

She shut her eyes tightly and ran her fingers through her hair, grunting quietly. She tried to force the thought of Danny only meters away out of her mind as she changed into shorts and a tank and crawled into her own bed.

But every time Danny adjusted himself in the next room, she could hear the slight squeaking of the mattress… it was a constant cruel reminder of the man in the room next to her.

She lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling, forcing thoughts and images of Danny out of her mind. In return, she was rewarded with thoughts about the case, about those women who were left dead for days, alone in their apartments. Lindsay closed her eyes, and was instead met with visions of those women when she walked into their bedrooms.

And after a half-hour of tossing and turning, Lindsay still couldn't settle her mind enough to fall asleep.

* * *

Danny watched as Lindsay clicked her bedroom door shut and collapsed onto the pillow behind him, causing the mattress springs to squeal. He stripped himself of his jeans and shirt, leaving himself in only his boxers. He pulled the blanket up to his waist and tried to fall back asleep.

Except the only thought in his mind was Lindsay. Pictures of her smiling, swaying, sleeping… the scent of her overtaking his senses and controlling his thoughts. The sound of her laugh, the twinkle in her eye when she smiled, the concentrated look she'd get when focusing so intently on a case. Everything about her… he was completely nuts about her, absolutely head over heels.

He rubbed his face with his hands. He tried to focus on the sounds of the street, just barely audible through the window. But focusing so hard on the sounds just reminded him why he was straining himself in the first place.

A soft click of a door opening, though, jerked him from his thoughts. Not knowing what else to do, he shut his eyes and feigned sleep.

* * *

Lindsay hit a breaking point – her thoughts of Emma and Michelle had chased away any chance sleep had of finding her. What it came down to was she was alone.

Against her better judgment, she slowly rose from her bed and, as quietly as possible, turned her door handle and opened the door. She peeked around the corner and held her breath as she took in the sight before her – Danny, without his shirt on, lying on his back and his covers only covering his lower half.

Lindsay slowly crept over to the spare side of the bed, and climbed in beside him. She was very careful not to touch his body, as tempting as it was right now – how awkward it would be to explain why she was randomly sharing a bed with him.

But the reality was that she couldn't take being alone anymore, trying to fight a solitude that would just not go away. And even if it was just one night, being in the same bed as someone else offered her just a little bit of solace… and given that it was Danny in the same bed, she would be getting a lot of solace.

She let her eyes run over Danny's body – she examined every curve and crevice of his features, memorizing each beauty mark, every strand of hair. The logical part of her screamed to get away from him, to run away as fast as she possibly could… but how could she possibly do that? It was _Danny…_

_It's your own fault it's this way, _she chastised herself.

Allowing her eyes one more guilty journey over Danny's body, she finally fell into a calm sleep.

* * *

But Danny wasn't sleeping. His heart nearly stopped beating when he felt the mattress beside him sink slightly as she climbed in and pulled the covers up. Part of him desperately wanted to turn his head so he'd be facing her, but what would he do if her eyes were open? _There _was an awkwardness he didn't want to face – he had no idea whatsoever if she wanted for him to know she was there or not.

_Can you really share someone's bed, and not have them notice? _he thought to himself. _Maybe if they thought you were sleeping..._ He remained perfectly still, resisting the urge to move even a single muscle.

He could feel the heat coming off her body, her steady breathing through the mattress. God, he just wanted to roll over and wrap her up in his arms and tell her that he was there for her, that he wasn't going anywhere…

He sighed heavily. After several minutes, he decided to risk it. Carefully, he turned himself over and cracked one eye open just enough to see her. When he saw her eyes were closed, he opened both of his. She was blurry, the result of him not wearing his glasses, but he could still make out her features. She looked so calm and serene, the first time he had seen her as such in awhile. Her body moved slightly with each rhythmic breath she took. Her hair flowed loosely over her, down her neck and across the pillow. He couldn't be exactly sure, but he could almost swear she was smiling as she slept.

And a smile crept across his face. He finally saw a little bit of happiness in her, a small glimpse of a Lindsay void of any walls, barriers, or fronts. The real Lindsay.

He missed that Lindsay.

He closed his eyes and dreamed of a time when he could have that Lindsay all to himself.


	7. Chapter 6

Thanks to everyone who's stuck with the piece so far - thanks for continuing to read, and for those of you reviewing too, thanks so much!! Your thoughts, criticism, and feedback really helps me out a lot, and is very very much appreciated:)  
Thanks to Bo, Elainhe, and Audi for the beta/gamma.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The morning sun was warm on Lindsay's face. She stirred awake, smiling as she remembered where she was, and who was beside—

_Danny!_

He couldn't know that she got into bed with him last night, what would he think?!

Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder to be sure he was still sleeping. She smiled as she took him in – one arm under the pillow, the other strewn beside him, his mouth slightly open. The sheets were tangled around his legs, giving Lindsay a clear view of his upper half, this time in the daylight. It took all her self-control not to reach out to see what it felt like to touch his body, to run her hands up his arms and down his chest.

Lindsay forced her gaze away from him and stood up slowly, careful not to disturb the bed and wake Danny. Once standing, she gave him a glance backwards. She sighed, letting her eyes linger over his sleeping body. God, she so just wanted to…

_No, Lindsay, _she berated herself, forcing her eyes away from Danny. She heaved a breath and made her way to her bathroom. They both had to be at the lab in about an hour; she'd take her shower, then wake him and make breakfast while he showered, then they'd head in. Yes, that was a good plan. No room for anything to go awry. She hoped.

* * *

_I'm not going to be able to hold this straight face anymore if she doesn't stop staring at me, _Danny thought. He had been awake watching her for awhile, taking in every inch of her sleeping form. He had hardly slept knowing that she was beside him, close enough to feel her breath on his skin and heat radiating from her body, only managing little cat naps in between staring sessions.

But now, he could feel her eyes on him, staring at _him _instead. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt her get up, and a few seconds later, heard her bathroom door click shut. He opened his eyes and rolled over to his back, staring at the ceiling. He had it bad for her, and he knew it. What it was exactly, he couldn't say, but maybe that was what made her so wonderful, so thrilling – she was different than any other girl he had ever been with, and maybe that was what so appealing. He sighed – he just couldn't put his finger on it, but whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.

Through her closed bathroom door, he heard her flip her shower on. He groaned as images of naked Lindsay filled his mind. Not wanting her to come out to an awkward sight when she was finished, he decided to distract himself instead. He did the first thing he could think of: he'd make her breakfast. They could eat together while it was still warm, then, provided she didn't mind, he could take a quick shower before they had to be back at the lab. Good plan. Very good plan.

He got up and gathered the sheets off the bed – it only seemed decent for him to offer to clean them for her. He folded the couch back up and replaced the cushions. _Did she have these arranged in a specific way? _He stood in front of the couch for what seemed like ages, arranging and rearranging the pillows. He didn't want her to think he couldn't keep things neat – hang on, why did he even care?

He rubbed his hands over his face, and pulled his jeans on. He hated cooking with clothes on – at home, he'd just wear his boxers, but figured that might not be too appropriate as he was in Lindsay's apartment. She'd have to deal with the no-shirt, though.

He rummaged around her kitchen, surveying her grocery situation in order to decide what to make. He immediately scanned for the staples: bread, eggs, cheese, veggies. He was amazed at the amount of food she had in her fridge, though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised – Lindsay was definitely not one to be unprepared for anything. Including, from the looks of it, a visit from the entire US army.

But at the current moment, his omelets were requesting to be made. It didn't take him long to find a pan, spatula, and bowl. With any luck, he'd have them just about ready by the time she was finished in the shower.

The shower.

He had just about managed to forget that she was only meters away from him, naked. Granted, they were separated by a locked door, but that didn't change the fact that she was still there. He robotically grabbed an egg and cracked it into the bowl… and felt something wet on his bare foot. He looked down – evidently he _didn't _crack the egg in the bowl. He not only missed the bowl, but the counter completely! He stared at his foot, now covered with clear and yellow goop.

"You're really a piece of work, Messer," he grumbled under his breath as he reached for her dish cloth. "Real piece of work."

* * *

Lindsay shut off the water and toweled herself off. She put on a pair of shorts and a tank top; she'd change into something else when she got to her room before making breakfast. She looked around to make sure everything in the bathroom was presentable, since Danny'd be coming in next, then exited.

And stopped dead.

There stood Danny, topless, rummaging around her kitchen, and judging from the smell, cooking breakfast. She stood frozen, unable to move, as she stared at his naked back. God, it was gorgeous… every muscle, every crevice. She found her mind wondering what it'd be like to run her fingers and nails down that back…

"Well, good morning Miss Monroe," said Danny, turning to face her.

But now all she could stare at was his chest, visible in full form, not obstructed by the sheets, as it had been last night.

_Say something, _she heard herself think.

"Hi," she croaked.

Danny took a few steps towards her. "Everything okay?"

She inhaled sharply as his perfect chest moved towards her. She forced her eyes shut, then looked at him and smiled. "Yes, fine. You cooked!" she chirped, hoping to change the subject.

He gave her a questioning glance, then turned back to the kitchen. "Yep," he replied as he turned over what Lindsay guessed was an omelet. "Figured it was the least I could do, since you let me stay here last night."

"Oh please," she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "It was hardly an issue; honestly, I was glad for the evening company."

Danny looked at her, a small smile on his lips. "Me too," he said quietly.

They stared at each other for a moment, the only sound being the light sizzling of the eggs in the pan.

"Right," breathed Lindsay. "I'm going to go, um, change…"

"Right, yes." Danny cleared his throat. "Be quick, this is almost done."

"Will do," answered Lindsay, as she turned and retreated to her bedroom.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

_So. Not. Good._

* * *

R&Rs are appreciated:) 


	8. Chapter 7

Super-huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing... your kind words always make me smile and give me encouragement, so thank you a million times over. :)  
Thanks to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audi for the beta/gamma... and for putting up with me. :P

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The next day presented no new developments in the case. Hours of pouring over the same evidence, looking for any small detail, delivered nothing of use. This trend continued for the next week, and slowly, other case assignments began to slide across their desks, but any spare minute was spent on 'The Sequential Killer'as the lab techs had referred to the case.

The days flew by, and after two weeks of no developments and no new bodies, the case had been all but labeled cold. Other cases took priority, but The Sequential Killer's file remained front and center at both Danny and Lindsay's minds.

The morning was cool and crisp, the chill of pending winter in the air. Lindsay pulled her jacket tightly around her as she followed Stella to the crime scene. A body had been found in an alley. The first conclusion had been simple hypothermia, but the coroner determined the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. And so, here stood Lindsay and Stella.

Lindsay's fingertips were numb, the latex gloves offering little in the way of warmth against the cold air. Her breath clouded in front of her as she sifted through the debris in the area. The body had been there for two days, making it very difficult to tell what was relevant and what was simply debris. To be safe, she decided to bag everything.

Her mind began to wander, as her fingers seemed to move on their own. She and Danny hadn't spoken much since the night two weeks ago. They had mostly been working separate shifts, and when they were on the same shift, they were assigned to different cases. But that hadn't stopped Danny from at least letting Lindsay know he was still there. Every so often, she'd arrive in their office to find a post-it on her computer monitor, or an apple by her keyboard. She'd return the gesture by leaving him notes of her own, or on days when she knew he'd be in shortly, she'd pick up an extra coffee and leave it on his desk.

To be honest, she really had no idea what was going on. She found she had to constantly remind herself that it was _her _who put the distance between them, who asked Danny for space while she sorted out her own issues.

The ring of her cell phone distracted her from her thoughts. _Thank God, _she thought, fishing her phone out from her pocket. _I can't keep focusing on this, I'll drive myself mad. _

And despite herself, she grinned widely at her phone. _Danny Messer _flashed on the screen.

"Hey," she said, standing up and snapping her gloves off.

_"Hey - pack up your kit, I'm on my way to pick you up. Hawkes is going to take over your case."_

Lindsay knew the answer, but asked the question anyway. "Why, what's up?"

_"Flack called. He's back."_

Lindsay wedged her phone between her cheek and shoulder and felt her heart sink to the floor. She gathered her kit. "Alright, see you soon then."

Danny said he'd be there in about five minutes. Lindsay sighed and snapped her phone shut, then let Stella know of the switch.

"No problem," Stella smiled. "Don't worry, you guys will get him."

Lindsay returned a small smile in return. _I hope you're right, _she thought. _I hope you're right._

* * *

A small grin crept onto Danny's face as he pulled up to Lindsay's scene. 

"Thanks for the lift," said Hawkes as he climbed out of the car.

"No problem man, good luck," replied Danny.

"Thanks, though I think you'll need it more." Hawkes held the door open for Lindsay and nodded as she passed. He shut the door behind her.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," commented Danny as he pulled out into traffic.

"No kidding," laughed Lindsay.

They sat in awkward silence. Danny debated what would be appropriate to talk about - bring up the case that had been driving them nuts for a month? Pretend it didn't exist, and make small talk? Joke about the night they spent together, that he wasn't supposed to know about?

Luckily, he didn't have to make the decision - Lindsay made it for him.

"So what do you know so far about the new scene?"

"Honestly, not much," replied Danny. "I got a call from Poson, the officer who was first to arrive on the scene. He recognized the MO, and called us. Flack's tied up with another case right now, but will be meeting us there as soon as he can." Danny sighed. "Poson didn't know much though - was too afraid of disturbing anything that might help us solve the case. He kept everyone out and sealed off the room."

"Good thinking on his part, makes our jobs easier."

Danny waited for her to continue, but nothing came. He cleared his throat and tried to make the conversation a bit lighter. "Thanks for the latte the other day," he smiled, "it was an unexpected change from the regular coffee."

Lindsay chuckled. "Yeah, I felt like splurging. I was a bit bored with coffee myself, figured I'd get something with a bit more substance."

"Well, it was great. I owe you."

"And I'll hold you to that!"

They both laughed lightly as Danny pulled up to a newly-built condo building. They pulled their kits from the car and walked to the front doors.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Let's just catch this guy," she replied, as she pushed through the doors.

* * *

Lindsay cringed at the familiarity of the scene. To a stranger, nothing appeared wrong. No furniture out of place, no signs of struggle or forced entry, nothing to trigger suspicion whatsoever. 

"Has she been identified?" she heard Danny ask Poson behind her.

"Not yet," he answered. "The coroner hasn't arrived yet. I did check with the superintendent though, and this unit's owner is Natalie Dumont. I took the liberty of talking to some of the neighbours while waiting for you guys to arrive."

"And?" prodded Danny.

"She moved in a few months ago. Neighbours say she was a nice girl, friendly with the residents, no boyfriend, at least not that anyone knows of, anyway."

"Who found her?"

"Her brother, Jayden. He hadn't seen her in a few months, lives in California. He was out here on a business trip, and decided to surprise her. The super let him in."

"Some surprise," muttered Danny.

Lindsay nodded to herself. _Same victimology, _she thought as she shone her flashlight on all surfaces, hoping for a print or any amount of trace. She was putting off going into the bedroom for as long as possible. She couldn't process until the coroner arrived anyway, so there was no point. That was what she told herself, at least.

She could hear Danny and Poson still talking beside her. Statements from tenants didn't produce anything of real interest; no one heard anything nor saw anyone suspicious. A few friends that the neighbours recognized, a few takeout deliveries, nothing out of the ordinary for Natalie.

"Where did she work?" called Lindsay as she entered the kitchen.

"Um," came Poson's voice as he flipped through his notes. "Receptionist. The woman next door said she thought she worked at a law firm, but she couldn't be sure of that."

Lindsay nodded to herself. Receptionist. It fit with the other two - a job with weekends off. Today was Tuesday; chances were that Natalie had been dead for a few days, as the others had been. And who knew how much longer she'd be there, if her brother hadn't stopped in. She heard Danny's footsteps behind her.

A flashing red light on an answering machine caught Lindsay's eye. She pressed the play button as Danny stopped beside her.

"_Hi Natalie, it's Derek on Monday morning. Just wondering where you are since you didn't call in. I've covered for you, told Richards you were sick, but if you're not coming in tomorrow, make sure you call. Bye."_

Lindsay looked at Danny as the machine beeped and the next message started.

_"Nat__, it's Derek again. Two days of no-show? What's up with you? Richards isn't impressed, call him when you get this."_

Lindsay sighed. Someone knew she wasn't coming into work, but didn't check on it any further than a phone call.

"I'll cross-reference the name Richards," said Poson, scribbling in his notepad. "If she worked at a law firm and Richards is her boss, it's possible that there's a firm somewhere with Richards in the name. Or Richards is a licensed lawyer… I'll look into it and let you know."

"Be sure to let Flack know as well," said Danny as Poson headed back into the hallway. He turned to Lindsay. "Ready to check out the bedroom?" he asked.

She drew a deep breath and nodded. "Sure, let's do it."

She followed Danny to the bedroom, letting him enter first. The rancid smell confirmed what Lindsay had already suspected - Natalie had definitely been here for a few days already. At first glance, everything appeared the same. She had a visible gunshot wound in her forehead, and a white sheet was draped up to her neck, soaked in dried blood.

"Body or bed?" asked Danny.

"Bed," replied Lindsay instantly.

"How'd I know," Danny smiled as he walked up to the far side of the bed. Lindsay walked to the other and knelt down to open her kit. She felt the sheet move beside her as she pulled out her print dust.

"Lindsay."

"Yeah," she said as she stood up, careful not to spill her print dust as she opened the pot. She glanced up at Danny, who was staring at the body, a look of shock on his face.

It took Lindsay only a second to register why Danny was so surprised.

Carved on the torso of Natalie Dumont was the number four.


	9. Chapter 8

Wow, a huge huge thanks for everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, your kind words make me smile. :)  
Thanks to Bobo, Elainhe, and AudiPouty for the beta/gamma jobs on this.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"A four? A _four?!" _said Lindsay, her eyes darting between Danny and the body, her brain refusing to register what her eyes were seeing.

Danny didn't say anything, a fierce look of determination and disgust on his face has he began photographing the body.

Something began to boil in the pit of Lindsay's stomach. Assuming this guy didn't skip the number three on purpose, it was a possible explanation for the two-week gap between bodies… though it wasn't so much a gap as it was some woman somewhere who had simply not been found.

But she couldn't let a possible missing person – body – consume her thoughts, not when she had a fresh crime scene to process. And this crime scene needed all of her attention, and then some.

This needed to end.

* * *

After thoroughly processing Natalie's home, Lindsay sifted through the evidence at the lab. They had taken many more pictures than normal, collecting anything that could possibly provide a clue. But even so, the only promising piece of evidence was a tiny partial fingerprint found on the doorframe on the outside of Natalie's apartment. And that could belong to anyone.

A storm was passing over New York, causing traffic chaos and downpours of rain. It was as miserable outside as Lindsay felt inside. Somewhere in the city was a woman lying dead in her own apartment, a bloody '3' in her torso, and no one knew.

All the feelings of dread that Lindsay had been feeling before were coming rushing back – what if it was her? Would anyone notice if she was missing for days? Danny said he would, but would he really? She was, after all, the one to reject him, demand distance, so would he really give it a second thought if she went MIA for a few days? Lindsay pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused instead on tape lifting the clothes Natalie had been wearing. She had to get lost in her work, buried in it – it was the only way to distract herself.

But the distraction wouldn't last long. Footsteps approached behind her, and the familiar flutter in her stomach as she recognized them as Danny's.

"Lindsay," he began, "I ran that partial print, even though it was a bit smudged. The usable portion was pretty small, but there were a few possible matches. Flack's working on locating everyone. We've got a solid day of interrogation waiting for us tomorrow. But who knows if that will produce anything…"

Danny's voice trailed as he rubbed his face in his hands as he paced behind her. Lindsay was only half-listening, trying to keep her concentration on anything besides Danny and all the uncertainty she was feeling. Apparently, Danny hadn't noticed this, because he continued to babble.

"…but we did find the print on the _outside _of the apartment, so any of these people could be completely innocent, and we don't know if the person we're looking for is even _in _the system to begin with! And let's not forget that we're now trying to find any hint of where this _third _woman might be, assuming she even exists – for all we know this guy is just messing with us, granted he's so methodical that that's unlikely—"

Danny mentioning the missing woman was too much for Lindsay; something in her exploded, and all the emotions she had been hoarding flooded over. She spun around and faced Danny.

"Don't you think I already know this?" she shot. "Don't you think I've had the same thoughts going around in _my _head?!"

Danny looked flabbergasted. "Lindsay—"

"Just _stop!_"

And with that, she stormed past him, her vision blurring as tears began to form. She kept her head down as she quickly made her way to the stairs, ignoring Danny calling her name behind her.

She ran down the stairs and out the front door onto the sidewalk. People hurried around her, pulling their overcoats tight to their bodies and clutching at their umbrellas. The rain assaulted her face and shoulders, not taking long to soak her clothes and hair, but she didn't care. All she could think about was this mystery victim, and Danny – damn Danny! Damn him! If he wanted her so badly, then why didn't he come after her? Why didn't he fight for her, be there like he promised he would be? Instead he had simply let her walk out of his life without even an argument, just stood there and accepted the situation for what it was.

"Lindsay?" said Danny softly behind her.

She angrily wiped at her cheeks, her tears mixed with the rain, her toes and fingertips numb from the cold. "What do you want?" she asked sharply, not turning around.

"Lindsay, come back inside, it's freezing, and you're soaked."

"No!" she shot, keeping her back to him.

"Can you at least tell me what's wrong?" His voice was filled with concern, but all Lindsay could think of was her own loneliness and isolation. None of it made any sense.

She drew a breath and focused on the puddles on the pavement. "You didn't come after me," she said quietly.

"What?"

Lindsay turned to face him. He was a few feet away, standing under the roof of the building, still dry. Bustles of people scurried between them, not noticing the tension that filled the space.

"You didn't come after me," she repeated, this time with more force.

Danny just stared at her, confusion and hurt apparent on his face. "I don't understand."

Lindsay pushed her hair away from her face. "You said you wanted to be with me, but you did nothing to prove it. You didn't fight, you didn't argue, you just let me walk away, away from you. And you didn't come after me."

Danny stepped out from the protection of the lab and into the rain. She stood frozen in place, her anger and sadness and frustration bubbling higher with every step he took.

He stopped in front of her and shifted uncomfortably, as though he was unsure of what to do with himself. Finally, he whispered, "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

A small part of Lindsay, in the back of her mind, knew he was right, but her whirlwind of emotions made rational thinking impossible, and rage took over. She placed both hands firmly on his chest and pushed him away.

"If you really wanted me, you would have come after me, Danny, instead of just letting me go like that. You let me just… walk out. And now, and now…" Her hands formed fists at her side as she fumbled to find words. "And now, you're just there, pretending like nothing's wrong, calling me Montana, teasing me, coming over to comfort me, but when it comes down to it, you're still letting me walk away!"

She knew she wasn't making any sense, but she didn't care. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, intermingled with the rain. She looked directly at Danny, who was now soaked, his hair plastered to his head and his glasses spotted with raindrops. Her final piece of self-control broke.

She took a meaningful stride towards him, and pounded her fist against his chest.

"I did want to be with you, but you didn't fight me, didn't come after me. Would you notice if I was gone, if I just disappeared? Would you even care?" She hit him again. "Would it make any difference? Would I be just like that woman who's out there with a bloody three in her chest, dead for days – sorry, _weeks_," she hit him again, "and-" _hit_ "-no-one-even-knows-it!!"

Her hits became weaker as the last of her composure shattered and she cried against his chest.

* * *

Danny's heart broke with every contact her fists made with his chest, but when she broke down against him, all he wanted to do was pick up the pieces of her and put her back together. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as she let it all out.

"It's okay, Lindsay," he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."

They stood together for several moments, the rain not easing up. Nothing Lindsay had said had made any sense, but one line stood out clearly in Danny's mind: that he didn't go after her. But that was what she wanted, for him to give her space while she sorted things out. He promised he'd be there, told her to call if she needed him. Did it make any sense for him to continue chasing her after she asked for space? He'd decided to wait for her, convincing himself that she'd come around when she was prepared… but apparently that wasn't the case.

He slowly tilted his head back to look at her. He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears and the rain.

"Lindsay, I didn't come after you because I thought you wanted space," he said slowly, lightly stroking her face. "I wanted to be with you more than anything, and I still do. But I didn't want to push you or rush you." He picked a stray tendril off her cheek and pushed it back. "And as for not noticing if you go missing… you couldn't be more wrong." He drew a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. "I hate the days when we don't work the same shifts, and I get excited when we get assigned to the same case. Days when I'm not with you, you don't leave my thoughts.

"I know you're still dealing with things that are going on in your life… but Lindsay, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here, as close or as far as you want me to be." He drew a breath, speaking slightly faster as his heart pounded harder against his chest.

Lindsay took a step back and looked up at him though his water-spotted glasses. Her mind was reeling as it took in his words, but somewhere in her head, irrational, emotional, uncontrollable Lindsay was still in control. "But if that's how you feel, then why didn't you just tell me that? Why risk it?"

"Dammit, Lindsay, I said I wanted to be with you, are you evening listening to me?" barked Danny, frustration creeping through his body. "But sometimes, I just… you just…" His voice trailed and his breaths were shallow.

"What, Danny? You just what?" demanded Lindsay.

Danny's hand found the back of her head, and his lips crashed down against hers.


	10. Chapter 9

Wow, thank you everyone who reviewed, you leave me speechless. :)  
Thanks to the bestest beta/gamma team... Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. Wubbles!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The taste of Danny mixed with the rain filled Lindsay's mouth. She breathed in deeply, taking in every feeling, every moment, memorizing it. Feeling him begin to pull away, she leaned forward to maintain the contact, her hand finding his soaked hair and holding him against her. His hands found her cheeks, her lower back, the sensations even more prominent through her sopping wet shirt. It was unbelievable to her that Danny – the person she had just yelled at and told off and essentially blamed for everything – was here, kissing her, holding her, feeling her, waking her up from the nightmare she'd been trapped in for months.

They broke the contact but kept their faces only an inch apart. His quickened breath was warm on her face, and she couldn't help but smile when he swallowed the lump in his throat. They stayed like that, close, barely moving, just two people standing on a crowded and miserable street, finding some sort of comfort in each other.

"Danny, I'm sorry," began Lindsay, "I know it wasn't you--"

"—Lindsay," interrupted Danny, pressing a finger to her lips. "You don't have to say anything, I don't need an apology."

'Yeah, but—"

He silenced her again. "Lindsay, it's fine." He leaned back slightly and looked into her eyes: dark, soulful, captivating. Only Danny could look at her and see into her, through her, understand her without words being spoken. But tonight, they offered something she had never experienced before - they offered her support, stability, comfort, somewhere to turn to. Her eyes fluttered shut as Danny's fingers ran across her forehead, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his hand slightly, turning her head just enough to place a soft kiss on his palm.

She smiled as he placed a kiss on her forehead. She slowly opened her eyes and found him smiling brightly back at her. Her smile only widened.

"Now, what do you say we get you into some dry clothes, hmm?" He turned slightly to lead the way back into the lab.

"Yeah, I'd like that," she replied.

She followed him back into the lab in silence, a small grin permanently pasted on her face. As much uncertainty and regret and general bullshit as there was going on in the world and in her life, one thing was for certain – Danny would always be the one constant, the one pillar that she could count on to hold her in place, to keep her stable when she shattered.

* * *

Lindsay stared at her reflection in the locker room mirror, her wet hair glued to her head, her clothing clinging to her cold skin. _He kissed me. _

It was the only thing she could think of as she replayed the scene over and over in her mind. She could still taste him on her lips, feel his hands in her hair and on her back. It had been so unexpected and so full of passion and emotion, practically plowing her right over. It was perfect.

A huge mix of emotions stirred inside Lindsay, a combination of excitement, nervousness, and the weight of the case that continued to loom over her head. She pressed her eyes shut and walked to her locker, pulling out her dry clothes. She peeled off her shirt, Danny's scent invading her mind as she lifted it over her head.

What was she going to say to him now, though? She had blamed him for not coming after her, when she was the one who pushed him away in the first place. And why had she kept him at a distance? Because she was afraid of letting him in, of letting someone get close and see her vulnerabilities and insecurities?

…And would she be able to let him in now?

She shoved her wet clothes into a plastic bag and slammed her locker door in frustration.

_I'll figure it out later, _she told herself as she walked towards the door. _For now, we have to focus on the case. _

She was running away from it.

Like she always did.

* * *

Danny sat at his desk, staring blankly at the Sequential Killer file in front of him. He had looked at this file a hundred times, each time expecting something new to jump out at him, and each time, nothing.

Lindsay wasn't back from changing yet; he had purposely changed quickly so that she wouldn't come back to an empty office.

But for now, all he could do was wait.

The phone logs stared back at him, as if taunting him. Everything appeared normal in Natalie Dumont's log the day she died. Three calls to three friends, one call from her parents, a call to Giomo's Pizza, a regular number in her logs, and one to the superintendent, which turned out to be nothing but a replacement battery for her fire detector. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's like trying to catch a ghost," Danny said, infuriated, as he took off his glasses and shoved the logs across his desk.

"Hey," came Lindsay's voice as she walked into their office.

"Hey," he replied, smiling.

"So," she said, sitting down and picking up the phone logs. She didn't make eye contact with him. "Anything new?"

She looked so awkward, so rigid. _I freaked her out, I knew it. _

"Oh, um, no," he stammered, trying to act nonchalant. "Nothing strange in her phone logs, nor anyone else's logs, for that matter."

She nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the logs. He looked at her, trying to read her expression, and for the first time since he'd know her, he couldn't.

He swallowed, wanting to say something to her, but no words came to mind. Instead, he picked up the logs from the first victim, Emma Mezzolo.

But he couldn't concentrate; the tension between he and Lindsay was thick enough to slice with a knife.

He screwed it up. He moved too fast, made too big of a move and it scared her. She was upset and vulnerable, and he took advantage of that. She was just upset and needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and instead, he turned it into an opportunity to, what, hit on her?!

The fury was building inside him, and he was struggling to keep it under control. He had to get out.

"I'm going to get some food," he said sharply and he grabbed his jacket and strode quickly from the office.

He kept his head down as he made his way quickly to the stairs, pushing the door open with far more force than necessary… nearly flattening Flack in the process.

"What the hell, Messer!" yelled Flack, jumping out of Danny's way.

"Sorry," mumbled Danny as he went down the stairs two at a time and tore into the parking lot.

His mind was racing, thoughts of regret and fear and rejection invading every thought.

His car chirped as he unlocked the door, slamming it shut behind him. He turned the key in the ignition and cranked up his car stereo.

He had no idea where he was going to go, but for the moment, he just needed to get out.

* * *

"I'm going to get some food."

Danny's sudden harshly-toned comment made her jump, and before Lindsay could comprehend what was going on, Danny was out the door and out of sight.

She pushed the logs away from her, letting her eyes wander around her office. The office she shared with Danny. A post-it from Danny a week ago remained taped to the side of her computer monitor. _Don't work too hard!_. A few days ago, she and Danny had kept missing each other the whole day, and at the end of her shift, she found that note from him. He just had this way of making her smile, no matter how bad a day she'd had.

No matter how many times she'd pushed him away.

But was this time one time too many?


	11. Chapter 10

Huge, huge, _huge_ thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far - your very kind words leave me quite speechless. :)  
Thanks to Boleyn and Elainhe for putting up with me. :)

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The buildings rolled past as Danny drove aimlessly down the streets of New York, his mind trying to find some logic, any logic, in what has passed in the last few hours. But he had analyzed it so many times already that he was just going in circles, driving himself crazy.

Instead he turned up the volume on the radio, the heavy bass drowning his thoughts, his chest slightly vibrating with each beat. It was easy to get lost in the bustle of the city – headlights and taillights flashing from all directions, horns sounding, people filling the sidewalks, dodging the puddles from the earlier rainstorm. Above him, the sky was still painted shades of grey, the clouds hanging low, threatening more rain and misery.

Danny slowed his car to a stop at a red light, taking the opportunity to remove his glasses and rub his eyes. But the minute he closed them, one image appeared: Lindsay. If ever there was a time to have regrets and ask 'what if', this was it. He should have known better than to take advantage, seize an opportunity when she was vulnerable, no matter how innocent his intentions.

But oh, what it felt like to kiss her, hold her, taste her, to run his hands along her body and through her –

_Beeeeeeeeep _came the blaring horn from the truck behind him.

"Get out of the way, jackass!" yelled the clearly irate driver. The light in front of Danny had turned green and traffic was moving all around him. He pressed down the gas and waved an apology as the driver passed him… and flipped him off.

"Yeah, same to you, fucker," mumbled Danny, resting one arm against the door and gripping the top of the wheel with his right hand.

A light rumble from Danny's stomach told him he was hungry, even though he had no appetite to eat. _Might as well force something down, _he thought to himself.

He watched for restaurants as he drove, waiting for something to talk to him. JimJam's Steakhouse… nope. Mama Hanily's… nope. McDonald's… definitely not. Giomo's Pizza… nope. _Wait, Giomo's, _thought Danny, glancing over his shoulder as the restaurant passed. _Number Four ordered takeout from Giomo's. Might as well go there. _

It took another minute to find parking a block away, but soon enough Danny was inside the restaurant. Considering its small size, it had a huge pizza menu, a chalkboard with about thirty different pizzas, everything from traditional pepperoni to spinach and salmon to eggplant and duck.

"What can I get you, sir?" asked the burly man behind the counter.

"What's good?"

"Obviously if you're asking that, it's your first time here," laughed the man. "This one just came out of the oven – barbecue chicken, carmelized onion, red pepper, Italian spice. Fantastic."

Danny looked at the pizza the man was pointing to. "Sure, sounds good."

The man smiled, cut a slice, and passed it to Danny. "Take a bite, I want to see your reaction!"

Danny did as he was told and smiled before sinking his teeth into the piping hot slice. Immediately, the flavour bombarded his tastebuds. "Wow," he said through a mouthful.

"Hahaha, you won't find pizza this great anywhere else in New York, my friend."

"That's phenomenal," said Danny as he reached for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing, first-timers get a slice for free, as long as you promise to come back. Here, take a brochure," said the man as he passed Danny a pamphlet with a menu printed on it. "We have a delivery service, so you can have hot-and-fresh Giomo's whenever you want."

"Yeah, I know," replied Danny, glancing over the pamphlet briefly before sliding it into his back pocket. He took a seat at a nearby table, finished his slice, and left, thinking about how much better the experience would have been… if he had someone to share it with.

* * *

"Danny's not back yet, I take it?" asked Flack, standing in the doorway to Lindsay's office.

"No, he's been gone about an hour," mumbled Lindsay, avoiding eye contact with him. "What do you want?"

"Well, good to see you're in a chipper mood too," mocked Flack. "Anyway. I'm still coming up empty on trying to find a connection between these women – I take it you haven't found anything either?"

"Nothing so far," said Lindsay, looking up from the mound of papers before her. "But I suppose that's nothing new. It's frustrating, and I think we're all starting to take it out on each other, which does nothing to help our situation."

"Danny gets like that, don't take it personally," said Flack softly as he walked deeper into the office. "These cases never sit right with him, it's like a compulsion – he has to solve it, and until he does, this case will completely consume him. You've already seen the beginnings of it."

"Yeah, I have," said Lindsay slowly, turning her attention back down to the papers. _That's probably not all that's on his mind, though, _she thought, remembering where they had been just an hour earlier… what hurtful things she had said to him.

"Do you think we were right in letting Philip go? The guy who owned that cleaning service?" asked Flack, interrupting Lindsay's thoughts. He was flipping through Emma Mezollo's case file.

"Yeah," replied Lindsay. "I mean, you can't rely on reading a suspect's reaction to determine if they're guilty or not, but that guy seemed genuinely freaked out… and like I pointed out to Danny during the initial questioning – the guy had a very shaky hand, there was no way he could have held a knife steady enough to make the types of incisions we saw on the victims. It just doesn't add up."

"Yeah, Dan said the same thing," said Flack, closing the folder. "How are you holding up?"

Lindsay looked up at Flack, surprised by the personal question. "Okay, I guess," she replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Good, that's good," replied Flack, standing up. "I'm going to go talk to some of the neighbours of the last victim again, see if anyone's memories are bringing up anything new."

"Good luck," said Lindsay with a small smile as Flack exited the office.

Lindsay sat back in her chair and stared out the window at the city below her. It was still raining as it was earlier, though it was saturated with the dark of night now. The millions of lights of the city were blurred through the rain running down the window; the soft pattering noise it made was strangely soothing.

"Hey," came a voice behind her, causing her to jump.

Danny walked into the office, stripping off his wet coat and hanging it on the back of the door.

"Hey," she replied, sensing the still-thick air between them. "Good food?"

"Yeah," said Danny as he sat down. "I ended up at Giomo's, the place Natalie Dumontcalled for food one night. Great pizza there, you should try it." He pulled the pamphlet out of his pocket and handed it to Lindsay. "Don't forget to mention you're a first-time customer, you'll get your slice for free."

Lindsay smiled as she fingered the paper, absently skimming over its contents. "Mental note made," she said, trying to lighten the air. "Any ideas on where to go from here?" she asked.

"Well," said Danny, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you, that was never—"

"I meant the case," interrupted Lindsay, feeling very awkward.

"Oh. Right. Of course. My mistake," stammered Danny. "But to be honest… no. I'm out of ideas."

Lindsay nodded and breathed a sigh. It was late, and she was tired, but a part of her was unwilling to give up searching for this guy. It was ironic – Flack said that Danny let cases consume him, that he didn't stop until he solved it… little did he know she was exactly the same way, if not worse.

She yawned and stretched her arms out above her head. Danny took note of the action.

"You need to get some rest," he said, not looking up from the papers.

"I'm okay," she protested.

"No, you're not." He looked up at her, his eyes bearing an emotion she hadn't seen before in him, and couldn't recognize. "It's been a very long day, both case-wise and personally. Go home, get some rest, and we'll start fresh in the morning."

Lindsay couldn't help but smile – somewhere within the awkwardness of the events from that evening, the old Danny was still there, still looking out for her… still caring.

"Alright, as long as you promise not to stay too late yourself." She smiled as she picked up her purse and jacket. "See you in the morning, then."

Danny smiled and waved as she walked towards the door. She had nearly excited, when she turned back to face him.

"Danny," she said slowly, "You didn't hurt me. And it's not over." She smiled widely at him, and turned and walked out of the office and out of sight.

* * *

Danny was speechless and he watched her disappear down the hallway of the lab. He wasn't sure whether to be overjoyed or utterly confused over what she had just said, but either way, it provided him some happiness and comfort, if at least only for the moment.

He knew he should also be taking his own advice and getting some rest, but now his mind was reeling far too quickly for him to settle enough to sleep. He decided to at least put in another half-hour or so, and then he'd head out.

He picked up the case file for Michelle Gregor, and opened it to her phone logs. He had looked over these logs a million times, each time expecting to find something new, and each time, nothing.

He turned his attention to his computer, opening his internet browser and staring blankly as his home page, the cursor in the search bar blinking mockingly at him. Not knowing what else to do, he glanced back at the logs and typed in the first company name that jumped out at him: _Soo-Yin Chinese Takeout and Delivery._

He absently scrolled through the pages – the menu, the prices, the delivery area. _This is pointless, _he said to himself. But just as he moved to close the window, something caught his eye.

He reached over to Lindsay's desk, where she had left the Giomo's pamphlet lying idly. He flipped it to the back and found what he was looking for.

Danny grabbed his phone and speed-dialed Lindsay's cell.

"Lindsay," he said when she answered, "I found the link."


	12. Chapter 11

Such a huge thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story and continued to read, and a special thanks to those who have taken the time to review. :) Your feedback means a lot, and your nice comments make me smile. :)  
Not too much left to go now; thanks to Boleyn and Elainhe for sticking with me and putting up with my whining. :) **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

It took Lindsay a minute to comprehend what Danny had just said. "You what?" she asked.

"_I found the link between the victims. You have to get back here." _

Lindsay looked around – she was already on her way home; she'd have to wait until the next stop and get on the returning subway back. "I'll be back in twenty… can you just tell me what the connection is?"

"_No, you get your butt back here, and then I'll tell you!" _

Lindsay couldn't help but smile as she replied an exasperated "Fine," and snapped her phone shut. A case breakthrough had put her – and Danny – in a far better mood.

* * *

Lindsay had barely walked into the office when Danny immediately began to speak, clicking through multiple windows on his computer. Lindsay immediately recognized the phone logs of the three victims in front of him, laid out side-by-side, a few highlighted lines on each. She held her breath. 

"The reason we couldn't find a connection is because there _wasn't _a direct link! Look," he said, pointing to the numbers. "The only vague thing we could find is that a few days before their deaths, all three victims ordered delivery."

Lindsay nodded, remembering that similarity, though she had thought nothing of it.

Danny continued. "It was a complete fluke that I went to Giomo's tonight for dinner, and the manager gave me a brochure – the one I showed you. And when I got back here, I looked up Sin-Yoo's Chinese, and _that's _where the connection is!"

"Danny, get to the point, you're losing me here," said Lindsay, a small smile on her face as she waited anxiously.

"The delivery service! Both of these restaurants employ a private delivery company to carry out their orders – and I looked up the place that Natalie Dumont called as well – _Lucky Chicken_ - they _also _use the same delivery service!" Danny looked at her with a triumphant grin on his face, an expression of happiness Lindsay hadn't seen in ages.

"And I take it you have a name and address," said Lindsay, smiling widely.

"RoadRunner Food Delivery, on 5th." Danny stood up, grabbing his jacket and keys. "_And_ I've already got the warrant. Coming?"

Lindsay smiled as she followed Danny out of the office, taking note of the bounce in his step… and the complementary one in her own.

* * *

Danny led Lindsay in the front doors of RoadRunner's head office, and strode directly up to a very frazzled-looking receptionist. 

"Hey there," he said, holding up his badge. Lindsay did the same. "We have a warrant for your dispatch records for the last two months." He slid the warrant across the counter, staring the receptionist right in the eye.

"I'm sorry, w-what's this about?" she asked, looking quickly between Danny, Lindsay, and her computer screen.

"Homicide investigation. Those records?" said Lindsay, motioning in the direction of the warrant.

"I… um… I don't understand, homicide?" she asked, opening a new search query on her computer.

"Yes—" started Lindsay.

"What's going on here?" asked a man in a suit, jogging towards them.

"NYPD," said Danny, flashing his badge again. "We have a warrant for your dispatch logs. Your receptionist here was just about to get those for us. And you are?"

"Mark Vogt, I'm the head manager," he said, skimming over the warrant.

"As we explained," said Danny, "we're here on a homicide investigation. We need those logs, now."

The receptionist nodded timidly as she ran the query and printed out the results page. "Here, this is everything from the past two months. It has the company we did the run for, the date, the time, the delivery address, the collection amount, and the driver dispatched."

"Thank you," said Danny, immediately running his finger down the address column, and stopping on Emma Mezzolo's address. "Joe Park," he mumbled, pointing at the corresponding driver's name. He continued skimming down the list, stopping on each Michelle and Natalie's addresses, and noting the same name: Joe Park.

"Mr. Vogt, we're not going anywhere. We need to speak to a Joe Park," said Danny, folding up the logs. "Now."

Mark motioned towards his receptionist, who typed something quickly into her computer. "He just went on a run about twenty minutes ago, I have the addresses he's scheduled at, if you want them."

"Please," said Lindsay. She could feel her heart beginning to race – they were going to get this guy. The weeks of frustration and nightmares were close to being over; she could feel her fingertips tingling with anticipation.

It took only a moment for the receptionist to print out the dispatch route, and a moment more for Danny and Lindsay to get into their SUV.

"We have no way to know which of these addresses he's at right now," said Lindsay as Danny started the engine. "If he left twenty minutes ago, he'd have to stop at the restaurants, and then go to the first address with the delivery… which means that he can't be very far into the delivery list, if he's even made it so far."

"How about we go to the second address – we have the apartment number, so we can simply ask if he's been there yet; if he's past us, it won't take us long to catch up."

"Sounds good to me," replied Lindsay as Danny shifted the SUV into drive. "You ready to catch this shit?" he asked, before taking his foot off the brake.

"Absolutely," smiled Lindsay.

Danny reached over and squeezed her hand. "Me too, Montana."

And with that, he released the brake and took off towards their destination.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a posh apartment building. Its lights lit it up brightly, making it stand out against the indigo of the night sky. Lindsay estimated the building had to be about thirty stories up. She looked around her, a car to her left catching her attention. 

"Danny," she said, motioning in its direction. The black car had the unmistakable white RoadRunner logo painted on its doors.

Danny nodded and pulled out his cell phone. "This is Messer, I'm at 5278 Broadway, requesting immediate backup." He clipped his phone shut, slid it into his back pocket, and took his gun out of its holster. Lindsay followed the action.

"You ready?" Danny asked her, glancing inside, then looking back at her.

Lindsay nodded and followed Danny inside, her gun at the ready. She could feel her heart beating strongly against her chest, her insides tight with anxiousness. They were looking for apartment 203.

Danny ascended the stairs quickly but quietly; Lindsay could see his eyes darting to every crevice and corner, searching for any sign of Joe Park. They reached the door to the second floor.

"Stay behind me, Lindsay," said Danny, placing one hand on the door handle. "I'll approach first, try not to spook him, but I need you for cover." Danny holstered his gun, his eyes intense with determination and fear.

"Got it," she said, tightening her grip on her weapon as Danny opened the door and took a few cautious steps into the empty hallway. Lindsay followed a few paces behind him, struggling to pick out which sounds around her were relevant. She could hear laughing in the apartment to her right, the television blaring in the one to her left.

As they neared the corner of the hallway, Lindsay heard something that was almost definitely relevant: A young woman, "thanks, have a great day," followed by a door clicking shut.

Danny peeked around the corner quickly, then turned back to Lindsay. "It's him," he whispered. "You stay here, be ready."

Lindsay nodded and drew a breath as Danny disappeared around the corner. She listened carefully to every sound coming from around the corner; she struggled to control her breathing.

"Joe Park?" she heard Danny ask.

"Yeah?"

"Danny Messer, NYPD. I'm going to need you to come with me—"

The unmistakable sound of shoving ensued, and Lindsay barely had time to react to Danny calling her name as she spun around the corner, and was run over by Park. They both stumbled to the ground; Lindsay could hear Danny's footsteps behind her as she struggled to keep hold of Park's shirt.

"Get off," grunted Park has he jerked his elbow back and connected with Lindsay's nose. She lost hold of his shirt as her eyes immediately began to water, and she could feel a trickle of blood on her lip. She could just make out Danny's form speed past her and she heard two bodies hit the ground.

"Now I can arrest you for assaulting an officer," said Danny as Lindsay wiped the blood from her nose.

"What the hell is going on out here?" yelled a heavyset man from across the hall. Lindsay looked around and noticed many apartment doors had opened, their occupants coming out to see what the ruckus was about.

Both she and Danny held up their badges, Danny keeping a firm grip on Park as he spoke. "NYPD, everything's fine, please just go back into your apartments. Nothing to see."

Lindsay looked around as some people retreated back into their apartments, others hesitating with skeptical looks on their faces. A slim blonde at the end of the hallway caught her attention, the look on her face that of shock and fear.

"Lindsay," came Danny's voice behind her.

"One sec," she said as she walked towards the girl. "Was this man just at your apartment?"

"Yeah, he just delivered the take-out I ordered," she said, her eyes glued to Park. "What's going on?"

Lindsay sighed and she followed the girl's stare; Park was staring back at her, a small cut on his forehead, and pure hatred in his eyes. This was her first good look at him, and he looked as greasy as she had expected – unshaven, loose-fitting, worn shirt, torn jeans. His grin was sleazy, chilling, as if it were all a game. Lindsay was sure he thought it was.

She turned back to the blonde. "You're going to be fine, you have nothing to worry about." She smiled and reached out to squeeze the girl's arm reassuringly. "Enjoy your dinner," she said.

"Yeah, thanks," said the blonde slowly, looking between Lindsay and Park. "Bye, I guess." She retreated back to her apartment. Lindsay watched until she closed the door behind her, then turned and walked towards Danny and Park. "Let's go," she said firmly, staring Park straight in the eye.


	13. Chapter 12

Such a huge thank-you to everyone who's still reading, and especially to everyone who's taken the time to review... reading your thoughts and comments as you read the story means a ton. Thanks. :)  
Boleyn and Elainhe, you rock. **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Lindsay looked at Joe Park through the one-way glass. He was seated in one of the interrogation rooms, his hands cuffed and folded on the table in front of him. He didn't move, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders. But something about him now, alone in this room, sent shivers up Lindsay's spine. He stared at the glass, as though he knew she was standing behind it. His eyes were deep grey, filled with hate and rage. They were empty, soulless. His long hair hung down over his forehead and ears. His cheeks were sunken and wrinkled, with no colour or life. And his lips were thin lines, parched and chapped.

"Hey," said Danny from behind her, causing her to jump. "It's okay, just me." He smiled at her, and she let out a small laugh.

"What'd you find?"

"The partial print we found at Natalie Dumont's matches this guy's thumb. We found a blade in the trunk of his car that Sid said could have been used to carve the numbers into the bodies, though he couldn't be sure. The knife had traces of blood on it, but not enough for a sample – he cleaned it with bleach. There was no gun, though. We're going to need to get something from this guy to close this case."

Lindsay nodded, turning her attention back to Park. "Let's get this son of a bitch."

* * *

"Mr. Park," said Danny, sitting down opposite Park, Lindsay taking the seat beside him.

"You got nothing on me," he said, peering at Danny through the hair over his eyes.

"That's not true," replied Danny, opening the case file. "See this? This is your print at the apartment of Natalie Dumont. You made a delivery to her apartment three days before she was killed."

"So what?"

Lindsay pulled out pictures of the three victims.

"First victim. Emma Mezzolo. Killed two months ago, two days after you were at her house. Second victim, Michelle Gregor, killed three days after you delivered to her apartment. And Natalie Dumont, she's actually the fourth, killed as Detective Messer just said, three days after you were there too."

Park pulled the pictures towards him, looking at each intently. Admiring his work.

Danny leaned forward, reading for the photos, but Park stopped him. He looked at Danny through the top of his eyes, a grin forming on his paper-thin lips.

Park sat back in his chair, licking his lips and lifting up the picture of Michelle Gregor. "How long did it take you to find them?"

"Excuse me?" said Danny, grabbing the picture out of Park's hand and placing it with the others back in the folder.

"How long were they dead until you found them? Three days? Four? A week? Two?"

"Why does that matter?" asked Lindsay, clenching one hand in a fist underneath the table.

"You seem like a nice woman," said Park, leaning in towards Lindsay. "You're pretty, you're smart. One might say you had the whole package – looks, job," he glanced at Danny, "the guy… but tell me. What if you disappeared? Would anyone notice?"

"Listen here, you—" started Danny, standing up.

"No, Danny, it's okay, I got this," said Lindsay, reaching for Danny to pull him down, but not taking her eyes off of Park. Danny sat back down beside her; she could feel his eyes on her. "What are you trying to prove?"

"You didn't answer my question, pretty lady." Park smiled, his yellow teeth visible from behind his greasy grin.

Lindsay felt Danny tense beside her. "Last time I checked, I was the cop here, which means that I get to ask the questions." She sat up straight and leaned towards Park. "What are you trying to prove with this? Why these girls?"

Park looked over at Danny, then back to Lindsay. He lifted up his arms, pushed his hair out of his face, and drew a breath. "I proved a point," he said simply.

"What point would that be?" spat Danny. Lindsay put a hand on his arm, knowing he was close to leaping across the table and strangling this guy himself.

"You haven't found the third one yet, have you."

"We will," said Lindsay.

"But no one's phoned her in. No one's filed a missing persons report, called in a body, nothing. You'll find her because you have my dispatch logs, and when you contact her family, they'll have no idea she was even missing, let alone dead." He stated it as straight fact, smiling as he explained it. "People think that their friends, their families, that people care. Little do they know that people are so wrapped up in their own lives, so focused on their personal bubbles, that they don't even notice when their supposed 'friends' go missing. As for me? I simply brought it to their attention."

"You sick son of a—"

"_Danny,"_ Lindsay said sharply, tightening her grip on his arm as he knocked his chair backwards behind him. She looked into his eyes, startled by the intensity in his expression. "Wait outside, Danny," she said softly.

"Lindsay, I'm not about to—"

"Danny, I said, wait outside," she repeated, more firmly this time. Danny looked from Lindsay to Park, and back to Lindsay, wanting to argue, but hesitated to do so in front of Park. It only took him a few strides to reach the door, which he purposefully slammed shut behind him.

"Pretty boy's got a temper," said Park, grinning.

"Don't think I did that for you," Lindsay shot back, leaning towards Park. "I'd let Pretty Boy strangle you if it were my choice."

The expression on Park's face changed from amusement to anger. Lindsay stood up, leaning over the table towards him.

"Your point? You think that proved a point? Murdering four women, _numbering _them, to simply prove a point?"

"It worked, didn't it? And I would have had a fifth one too, that blonde chick, if you guys hadn't shown up," said Park, raising his voice. "Those girls, they thought they had it all, that they were loved. That first one – Emma, you said her name was? – she was going on and on and on about how much she loved her job as she signed her credit card receipt. Told me she didn't like weekends, because she missed the kids. Kids! She was placing her life with _kids!" _He laughed. "It was pathetic!"

"And that was reason to _kill _her?"

"I'll bet all her coworkers were at her funeral. The same people who never bothered to check on her on weekends, or call her after work. I'm sure they were all there crying, not realizing what role _they _all played in her death."

"The only person who played a role in her death was you," said Lindsay though gritted teeth. "These women are dead because of _you._ No one else."

"The others were just as bad," continued Park, dismissing Lindsay's words. "Smiling as they told me their sad stories, visiting people they thought cared about them, like the one who was going to surprise her boyfriend. Total crap, that was. She cared about him _soooooo _much," he mocked, "but he didn't notice she was gone, did he." Park laughed at the thought. Lindsay's blood ran cold.

"Those women did nothing wrong," she said slowly, resisting the urge to jump across the table and strangle him with her bare hands. "Those women died at _your _hand, no one else's." She turned to the guard in the room. "We're done here."

"You keep telling yourself that, pretty lady," called Park behind her as she slammed the door to the interrogation room behind her, and fell back against it, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as Park yelled through the door. "You keep on pretending that the people around you give a shit!"


	14. Chapter 13

Super-duper huge thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed - I've loved reading your comments and your thought processes as the case and the D/L has developed. This fic has been a lot of fun to write (except for when I wanted to punch my fist through my computer screen, or feed my bunnies steroids to get them working again)... but it's been a pleasure to share it with you, and I've enjoyed all your awesome feedback.  
As always, huge thanks to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina for putting up with me and allowing me to be a pain in the butt... you guys are awesome. :) Honorary godparents of this fic. :P  
So without further adieu... the conclusion of _Tempered Glass._**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Lindsay shut her eyes and tried to block out the yelling that was coming from the other side of the door. She struggled to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill over. Noises and voices swarmed around her, but all she wanted to do was escape.

"Lindsay, look at me," she heard Danny say softly. It had to be his hands she was feeling on her shoulders, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, face the world in front of her again.

"Linds, it's okay," said Danny again, trying to reassure her, comfort her, protect her. "You did great in there. You got what we needed to lock this guy up for good."

Slowly Lindsay allowed her eyes to open. Danny stood before her, his face filled with concern and relief.

"There you go," he said, pushing a stray curl out of her face. "You did it."

"We caught him," Lindsay said slowly, as if she had to convince herself that it was true. "We caught him."

Danny pulled Lindsay towards him, wrapping his arms around her, letting a hand run through her hair. She returned the gesture, gripping the back of his shirt in her fists, as if she was breaking, and he was the only thing holding her together.

It wasn't an entirely false thought.

* * *

Danny ran a hand up and down her back, trying to slow her breathing. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair. 

He felt her take a step back. He dipped his head to look at her – she wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. "All good," she smiled, but he could tell she was barely holding it together.

"Why don't you head home?" Danny said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing the skin on her neck. "I'll finish up the paperwork here, and stop by with some dinner."

"Dinner?" smiled Lindsay, letting out a bit of a laugh. "It's past midnight."

"That's okay," he replied, grinning. "Unless you don't want it."

"No, dinner at one in the morning sounds wonderful," she said. "See you soon, then." She smiled as she placed her hand on his chest, letting it sit there a few seconds, before walking around him and out the door.

Danny followed her with his eyes and smiled. This case had haunted her, brought out her demons, revealed a dark side of her Danny didn't know existed.

Park's words to Lindsay still stung in his ears, though: _Do any of them call you again? Come back to find you? When you reject them, do they try to get you back? _She had said that to him earlier, nearly verbatim. But as much as it stung to hear it come from the mouth of a serial killer, Danny knew Lindsay didn't mean it in the way it came out. But part of him couldn't shake the feeling that it was true.

He'd talk it over with Lindsay tonight.

* * *

The warm water rolled down Lindsay's back, washing away the case and everything about it. A chapter of her career she could finally put to rest, and she was more than happy to do so. 

This case had consumed her, and it had consumed Danny, straining their relationship and testing them both in ways she didn't know possible.

Her conversation – or rather, yelling fit – on the street with Danny played over and over in her head. She didn't mean so many of the things she said. She didn't blame him for her problems, for not coming after her, especially when she had asked him not to. She had reacted to the deaths of those women in exactly the way Park had wanted: she started second-guessing herself, wondering if anyone would notice if she were to go missing… if Danny would notice. That was his goal, his point, as he put it. She let him get under her skin, into her thoughts. She let him win.

Lindsay shut off the water and toweled off, changing into jeans and a t-shirt.

_This needs to get straightened out, _she thought as she ran her brush through her hair. _Danny and I need to talk about this._

* * *

Danny walked up the stairs to Lindsay's apartment, remembering the outcome the last time he had done this – Lindsay sneaking into his bed, falling asleep beside him, how it felt to watch her sleep. 

He reached up and knocked on her door. "It's open," he heard her call from inside. He took a breath and opened the door. On another day he would have made a joke about being her personal delivery man, but thought the better of it.

"Hey," he said as he clicked the door shut. She was sitting on her window ledge, leaning against the glass, staring at the streets below.

"Hey," she said, turning and smiling at him.

"Flack called," Danny said, setting the food down on her coffee table and walking towards her.

"And?"

"He found the third," he replied, leaning against the wall beside her.

Lindsay drew a deep breath and turned towards the window again. Danny moved to stand closer to her, placing his hand lightly on her back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I'm fine."

Danny let his eyes wander over her – she didn't look that fine. She looked tired. Her fingers drummed mindlessly against her knee.

"What was her name?" asked Lindsay, not turning her head. "The third one."

"Victoria Shaw," replied Danny.

Lindsay said nothing, just nodded. Sounds from the streets filled the air between them – tires screeching, horns sounding, the typical New York night. After a few minutes, she broke the silence.

"Why didn't anyone find her?"

Danny hesitated before answering, debating what would be the best choice of words. "I don't know the whole story," he replied slowly, "but she owned her own business, worked out of her apartment. She did see her friends regularly, but they had just assumed that she had gotten too busy with work and that was why they hadn't heard from her."

Again, Lindsay nodded, saying nothing in response.

Danny watched the cars pass by, their headlights bouncing off the still-wet pavement. The sky above was dark, only a few stars visible through the breaking rainclouds from earlier.

The sound of crashing metal turned Danny's attention back down to the street where two cars had collided.

"It always amazes me," said Lindsay, quietly.

"What's that?" asked Danny as the two drivers emerged from their cars, clearly irate.

"The glass used in cars," she said. "When you get into an accident, the glass shatters on impact, but doesn't fall apart."

"Tempered glass," said Danny, nodding. "One of the strongest types; when it breaks, it shatters into millions of small, harmless pieces, instead of large, sharp shards. It takes a lot to break tempered glass."

Lindsay sighed as the dual meaning of Danny's explanation registered. Normally, cases didn't bother her, get under her skin. Even the most gruesome cases… she could deal with it. She could put up her front, built up her walls, and retreat behind them.

But Park had changed all that. Park tore down her barriers and obliterated her walls. He left her emotional, exposed, and vulnerable. Like the glass below, she had hit her breaking point.

Lindsay turned to face Danny, taking his hands in hers. "I'm sorry," she said, looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Lindsay, don't."

"No, Danny, I have to," she said firmly.

Danny knew from the look in her eyes that she was serious. He drew a breath and nodded, prompting her to continue.

"I didn't mean what I said, Danny. I didn't." She ran a thumb absently over the top of his hand. "I know that I asked you to give me space, to let me sort out my own issues, and today I got mad at you for doing just that. I knew, though, even as I was saying it, that I was wrong… there was just something about this case that made me start thinking. I couldn't help but wonder, what if _I _had been one of Park's women? Would anyone notice if I just didn't show up for work one day? Look at the first one, Emma – she was dead three days because no one expected to see her until Monday. She didn't do much outside of work, and neither do I. If I have a few days off in a row and something happens, would anybody know?"

She drew a breath and broke eye contact with Danny, looking at the floor. "I just… I know I hurt you, and I didn't mean to. I took out my own insecurities on you, and that wasn't the right way for me to deal with it. This case… it just… I snapped."

She kept her eyes to the floor, but didn't let go of Danny's hands.

* * *

"Lindsay, it's okay," he said, dipping his head to try to catch her eye. When she didn't look up, he released one of her hands and tilted her chin up. "Really, it's okay." 

He saw a vulnerability and sincerity in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. As strong as Lindsay was, as much as she shut out the world and put up a strong front, everybody has a breaking point. This case, the twisted workings of Park's mind, the nonexistent logic of his whole game… that had been Lindsay's breaking point. It was this case that caused her to shatter, to fall apart, to question everything she had come to learn and love.

Danny reached up and tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. "You can push me away all you want, Montana," he said, allowing his hand to rest on her jaw. "But when you break into a million pieces, I'll be the first to put you back together."

Lindsay let out a small laugh and tilted her head slightly into his hand. "A million pieces, huh?" she said. "That'll take a lot of work."

Danny leaned in slowly. "So be it," he replied softly.

They were only an inch apart, her breath warm on his face, his lips tingling in anticipation. He slid his hand to the back of her head, his fingers getting tangled in her hair as he pulled her close. Their lips came together softly, her taste filling his mouth in full force, not diluted by the rain. He felt her hand rest on his hip and tug lightly on his shirt as he increased the pressure, knowing that this time it was shared and true and honest, not mixed up and clouded by uncertainty and desperation that had previously plagued them.

Her scent, her touch, her taste – everything about her invaded him, mesmerized him, ignited a fire in him. They finally broke apart, their breathing shallow and heavy, their foreheads resting against each other's.

"How's that for a job well done?" Danny whispered.

"I may have to fall apart more often," she grinned as she pulled his lips towards hers again.

* * *

Lindsay stirred awake to find herself wrapped in Danny's arms, her back pressed against his chest. She smiled as she nuzzled closer to Danny. 

"Good morning," came his low voice from behind her.

She smiled. "Morning," she replied as she rolled over to look at him.

"Sleep well?"

"Fantastic. Love waking up next to you," she smiled.

"I know you do," replied Danny, running a hand through her hair. "You take the opportunity whenever you can, don't you?"

Lindsay's eyes snapped open as she realized what Danny had just implied. She felt him start to laugh beside her.

"Busted," he smiled.

"You knew?!" she said, sitting up, playfully hitting his chest.

"Yes, I knew!" he said. "What, you think I'm not going to notice when someone climbs into bed beside me?"

"Why didn't you say anything then?" she asked.

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Didn't want you to leave, I guess."

She smiled and settled back down next to him. "And here I thought I was being all slick," she said.

"Naw, I'm just that good," he teased back.

They lay together quietly, listening to each other's breathing. Lindsay allowed her mind to wander, to reminisce over the past few months. The case of Joe Park had tested her in ways she didn't know possible – her restraint, her emotions, her relationship with Danny. And it had taken her falling to pieces for her to realize how much she really did need Danny in her life – not that she couldn't survive without him, but how happy he made her, how much she enjoyed being with him and beside him.

It had taken a sick, twisted, serial killer to show her that. It had forced her to be vulnerable, to be open, to lean on someone else for support for a change, instead of always trying to deal with it on her own. She realized it now, though, that it was okay to ask for help, to shatter.

She smiled and ran her hand down his chest. "When are you getting up?"

"Mmm, not for awhile," he said, "And neither are you."

"Okay," she said, happy not to put up an argument.

She closed her eyes and fell asleep beside him, knowing that no matter how many pieces she fell into, no matter how small, Danny would always be there.

And she was okay with that.

* * *

_Fin._

* * *


End file.
